


English Lit Didn't Prepare Me For You

by Airplanesandcookies (Mosgirllee)



Series: English Lit Didn't Prepare Me For You -the Coursepack [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: It's like this fic read the cliff notes of P&P and here we are, M/M, Pride and Prejudice Modern AU, Pride and Prejudice References, additional favorite trope, eric bittle/jack zimmermann - Freeform, fake boyfriends, ford/tango
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosgirllee/pseuds/Airplanesandcookies
Summary: “My dear Derek.  Every NCAA Division 1, first string hockey player has entertained the possibility of going pro.  Live your dream dude.”English Lit did not prepare Derek Nurse for the absolute chaos that would descend on his life once the Falconers set up a training camp at Samwell.  He specifically isn’t prepared to keep bumping into William Poindexter, newly traded to the Falconers from the Aces, to show up with a reputation to build upon and a chip on his shoulder.But Nursey’s not going to let that wreck his chill, especially when he’s busy trying to wingman for Bitty with the handsome and dorky Mr. Jack Zimmermann.As Nursey and Dex get to know each other through training and Haus Parties, it feels like the opposite of love at first sight but actions definitely speak louder than words.The short summary: It’s the Nursey/Dex Pride and Prejudice AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring the beautiful artwork of ‘gouachemole.tumblr.com’ and 'finseashore.tumblr.com'.
> 
> This story would not have happened without the help of my beta reader, WrathoftheStag.

_“I was reading this article in the Times that asked what Millennials are searching for in order to be happy…”_ Nursey’s mother began during one of their frequent but brief phone check-ins. 

“I can already tell you. I want a job that doesn’t conflate dedication with no boundaries, enough money to stay out of your pockets, and maybe someone to share it with.” Derek continued.

_“Oh honey, that’s so reasonable. Are you sure you want to stay at Samwell this summer? I can put in a few words for you with some of my connections. Maybe set you up with a paid internship”_

It was an old conversation and nothing had yet to change Nursey’s mind. “Mom, no. I gotta do this on my own.” Nursey replied, again. Which meant that he was prepared for her rebuttal. 

_“That’s some nonsense rich folks say to their kids so they don’t feel guilty giving their trust fund baby a yacht.”_

“Mom…” 

Derek’s mother sighed into the phone. _“Okay, okay. I’ll back off.”_

Derek smiled into the phone. “For real?”

_“I’m not deleting any of my contacts if that’s what you are asking. I’m doing as they say, letting my son figure out what he wants to do. I don’t want to see you struggle like I did. But see how flexible I am? ”_

Nursey grinned. “Even if I want to play professional hockey.”

Nursey got a low frequency hum in response. 

“Modern mom. Flexible.” He teased. 

He could hear her laugh to herself before she answered. _“Okay, yes. If you get the opportunity.”_

They hung up the phone, with a quick, “Love you, bye, talk to you Friday.” 

Even though he was joking, far in the back of his mind, yeah, okay, sure, Derek Nurse would not turn down the opportunity to play hockey professionally. 

But who wouldn’t, right?

Playing for as long as he did, as hard as he did? Then hockey was one representation of his wildest dreams validating all of hard work, focus, and passion for the game all wrapped up in a potentially lucrative contract. 

But with graduation looming and no talent scouts knocking on his door, well then, as his mom would say, (and say again, and yell it for the people in the back,) it was time to consider the practical. 

Which was the main reason Nursey was looking forward to the next few months as a member of the SMH Summer School Crew. Sure, he had other reasons, but not only was it ‘hashtag practical’ (and thereby scoring points with his mom) - he would be able to live almost rent-free on campus and take a few classes to boost his GPA (bonus). Not only that, staying on campus meant that the commute to Boston twice a week for his unpaid internship at a publishing house became feasible - see, responsible. And in between it all, he could volunteer a few hours at Faber to help Ford with all of her cute as hell youth hockey and ice skating leagues that rolled through while getting a little ice time for himself.

So, yeah! It was going to be fun as hell as long as he didn’t let in the neverending, impending panic about the gradual shortening of his time at Samwell to figure his shit out before he graduated. That wasn’t terrifying at all. Nope, best to focus on the icing on the cake, which was his fly ass, brand spanking new, hand knitted, Samwell white and red cardigan. A ‘Foxtrot Original Design’ (which could only be said in a proper swanky voice). 

“It feels like a hug and friendship but with style,” Nursey told Tango later that afternoon, as he finished comparing the youth rosters to the equipment rental list. 

Whiskey nodded in agreement, barely looking up from his phone. “They always do.”

Tango pushed a stack of chairs and continued cleaning up. “Ford didn’t make you a sweater before?”

“Nope and I can’t tell you how jealous I am that you and Whiskey have like, multiple. She must like you tadpoles.”

“Do you think so?” Tango asked.

Whiskey smirked at his phone. “She does.”

And Nursey tried to think of the best way to reply to something that was obvious from the ice rings of Saturn, when he heard his name from over by the hallway leading to the locker rooms. 

“Nursey!” Ford staged whispered. A few lingering kids from the youth center’s junior hockey team looked over at her but she ignored them and frantically waved Nursey over. 

Nursey shrugged at Tango and Whiskey and trotted over, and when he got close enough to have an actual whispered conversation, at the appropriate volume, she grabbed him by his button-up under his sweater, pulled him past the team lounge, and into the equipment room.

“Guess what?”

“Netherfield Park is let at last?”

“No, you dork. Jack Zimmermann, Sebastien St. Martin, and William Poindexter are at this very minute, touring Faber with Coach Hall.”

Nursey’s eyes went wide. “For real? Like, right now? Why?”

“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

“SPILL!” 

“You can’t tell anyone. Do you hear me? NOBODY. Promise me that you will keep this to yourself.” 

“Woman, maybe don’t tell me if it’s that big of a secret! You know I can’t lie to save my life.”

And he couldn’t. The best he could ever do was hide the truth under a heavy layer of sarcasm and hope no one went digging.

Ford groaned and thumped her head against Nursey’s chest. “I have to tell someone otherwise I’ll burst.”

“Good, cause I really want to know.”

Ford clapped her hands before quickly looking around and then dragging Nursey farther back into the equipment room towards the washers. 

“So, now that the Providence Falconers are Stanley Cup winners and are no longer the new kid expansion team, word is that they wants to build up their minor league affiliate team. The plan is that the Falconer’s board has a few friendly investors who are going to buy the Portland Hawkers, pull everyone under the same ownership and management, and then develop the hell out the minor league farm team. And to keep everything kind of quiet, they are pulling favors from friends all over. The Hawkers were already going to have some development camp stuff here, so the organization just asked Hall and Murray to join in. And, the Falconers are sending over a few volunteers from their team to help with the camp.” 

“Whoa! Ford and Murray are going to be Portland Hawkers? What positions?” 

Ford hit him in the chest.

“Are you serious?” Nursey asked, laughing at his own joke before digesting the biggest news he’d ever heard.

Ford straightened up to her full height and stared at Nursey’s sternum. “I wouldn’t kid about a summer full of Falconers running around Faber.”

Nursey took in a lung full of air and exhaled. “That’s chill.” And he missed chill by a mile so he straightened his shirt a bit to recover. “I mean, you know. It won’t change our lives too much.”

“I know Whiskey was sticking around to train with the Hawkers, but Coach Hall and Murray worked it out that any of SMH that wants to train, can too. He’s got to work something out with the NCAA but I’m cautiously optimistic.”

“WHAT!”

“There’s the reaction I was looking for,” Ford said, smile spreading across her face.

Nursey tried to pull his enthusiasm in a bit. 

“I mean, it’s cool as hell, it will definitely help with the upcoming season, but I’m not going to play professionally ever. Like, I got this job lined up in Boston. This will just be a fun summer camp, right? I might be able make time for one or two of the workouts.”

Ford rolled her eyes. “My dear Derek. Every NCAA Division 1, first string hockey player has entertained the possibility of going pro. Live your dream dude.”

And that dream was suddenly a little closer, but still far away enough, like winning a small lottery ticket as opposed to the Powerball.

“Does Bitty know?”

Ford’s grin impossibly grew. 

“I think he figured something out. I didn’t talk to him because he was on the ice cleaning up after the camp, giving a few little extra pointers to the stragglers, when Jack Zimmermann stopped the tour and walked out on the ice like he was a Jane Austen hero to talk to them.”  
“And you left that to come find me?”

“I needed someone to tell and make a high pitched EEEEEEE sound with me. You are not meeting my expectations, Nurse.”

Nursey started to giggle, unrestrained, “I can’t believe this! Ford AHHHHHH!!!!”

“Close enough! Okay, let’s go see what’s going on on the ice.”

Jack Zimmermann couldn’t be human. He was that impressive, seriously awe inspiring. Between the lethal combo strength, speed, and grace - Nursey shook his head. It would be unfair to skate against the guy, right? But that didn’t stop Nurse from lusting after that level of competition.

Nursey played and he knew first hand how fast the game felt out on the ice. The cameras could never relay how fast everything moved in a quarter, in a minute, in a second. And they sure as hell could never capture how incredibly fast Jack was. And, as icing on the cupcake, up close, he was a solid dude, who could easily knock you on your ass if you got in his way. 

By the time Ford and Nursey made it back to the rink, Jack was using everything he had to futilely chase Bitty around the ice. During a hockey game, that type of chase would make Derek try to intercept, but at the moment it wasn’t necessary. Jack wasn’t even close and it was clear as day to anyone watching. And Bitty was ‘hashtag living’. 

“Where did he even get skates?” Tango whispered to Nursey as they walked up. “Did he just have a pair in his car?”

“Probably in his back pocket. Who knows.”

Bitty skidded to a sudden stop with a beautiful shower of shaved ice and Jack panting a few seconds behind him. 

Everyone clapped, even Whiskey, which was saying something, but Bitty did win that by a mile and a half. 

“You won,” Jack then confirmed, surprised but smiling. 

“Barely. I had to dig deep and pull out every last bit speed to win that,” Bitty replied, his hair artifully plastered on his face but with the biggest smile Nursey had ever seen. Further proof that Bitty didn’t sweat when he flirted. He strategically glistened and Zimmermann definitely noticed. 

“It’s good. Your speed. It’s good to be fast. Nice hands. I can see why you were voted captain. impressive stats,” Jack mumbled, swaying slightly on his feet.

“You… you looked at my stats? I’m honored. You make a boy blush, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Jack.” And Jack Zimmermann blushed right back.

“Oh my god, are they are flirting?” Nursey asked, nudging Ford with his elbow. Because damn, he could practically see the hearts in their eyes. 

Another voice spoke up from behind the group, making them all jump. 

“It’s inappropriate. Plus, Jack shouldn’t even be on the ice after his injury. Let alone losing to a some guy on a college team.”

Derek turned to the voice. “Eric Bittle is the captain of our team. And ESPN said it was just a sprain?”

William Poindexter did not look impressed. But he was kinda impressive to look at. He was exactly like what he always imagined Charlie Weasley, the dragon rider, to look like - close cropped red hair, just as tall as Derek, with broad shoulders, beefy, with a scowl that bordered on sexy. 

“It’s a sport injury. Also, that guy was voted as captain by the team? That’s like running for class president.”

Derek wasn’t one to puff up his chest in some bizarre show of bravado. But he also wasn’t one to let someone have the last word, so he refocused his attention back to the ice to watch the most awkwardly adorable and addictive rom-com he’s ever seen live. 

“He was unanimously voted as captain for a reason. He put us on his back to get us to the Frozen Four last year. We were the runner ups this year.”

“Runner up means you didn’t win.”

Nursey shrugged. “You can’t win them all. After your non-existent playoff run, you should definitely know that.”

“I don’t expect that some assistant college team manager would understand.”

Nursey forgot that Ford was standing there too until she quietly sucked her teeth just as Bitty and Jack Zimmermann skated over to them. 

“Jack, I know you met Ford, Whiskey and Tango just now, but let me introduce you Derek Nurse. He’s one of our first string D-men.”

Derek straightened up, and okay, he puffed a little, but this was the appropriate time to show off not only what his mama gave him but his awesome custom-knitted sweater that fit perfectly. He smiled and shook Jack’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Jack returned it with a smile of his own. 

“Nurse. I’ve heard your name from Chris Chow. He said that you have one of the hardest slap shots that he’s ever had the pleasure to block.”

Derek couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh. “Only because you have to bring your WHOLE game in order to go head-to-head with Chowder. You can’t leave anything at home. I love that guy.”

The moment started to stretch to mildly uncomfortable as the laughter and smiles began to fade. Eric snuck glances from under his eyelashes and Jack was pointedly not staring at Eric and failing. 

Derek was going to have to do something. 

“Hey, Jack? We are huge fans of those Meet the Falconers videos.”

Bitty’s eyes went wide and he started to wave his hands, and Derek pretended not to see him. 

“Oh, yeah? They are pretty embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? No! Dude! They are so validating! Like the one about pre-game rituals? That’s amazing. We make sandwiches, too, ever since Bitty here started making this absolutely insane whole grain bread. It’s so good, angels weep. So now, before every game, we gotta make a sandwich with that bread.”

And Jack took the bait just like Derek knew he would. Heart eyes never lie. 

“You make bread?”

And over his shoulder, Poindexter muttered, “Oh, of course he bakes.”

Derek ground his teeth, but managed to ignore the interruption. It was time to lure Jack in. 

“Oh yeah, Bitty is completely shy about it, but he’s like practically a professional baker. He should have a Beard Award or something. Oh, and his jams. God. Right, Ford?”

And Ford never missed a cue. “Best damn jam I’ve ever had. You can’t buy jam like his.”

Jack was staring openly at Bitty now, who was blushing and stuttering. 

“I mean, it’s just a few family recipes.”

“You know, I’m not sure how long you are in town, but we are heading back to our team house to celebrate Bitty’s birthday. We have pie, beer, and so much jam stored, it’s practically falling out of the cabinets. Do you think you could take some off our hands? I mean, only if you like it. Do you have time to stop by and grab a bite?”

“Yes.”

Bitty looked torn between being ready to murder Nurse, elated, and finally panicked. 

Ford wrapped it all up in a bow though. 

“Hey Jack, I can show you to Coach Murray’s office. And I bet once we are finished up in there, I can walk you to the Haus. It should be a quiet night.” 

Ford turned and pointedly stared at Nursey and the rest of the guy. He could take a hint. “This way,” she ushered. 

Poindexter followed behind the WTF tadpoles, while Nursey and Bitty watched them walk down the hall.

“Derek, my birthday was three weeks ago. I cannot believe…”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but you got like ten minutes to shower and get back to the house to make sure you didn’t leave your dirty underwear on the floor or something.”

And Bitty was gone, just like that. 

A moment later Nursey’s phone pinged, _“Did you just get Bitty an NHL player for his birthday? That’s not fair! I only got him a pair of socks.”_

He texted back, _“Well, I had to get him something. I’ll write your name in the card.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Nursey had to hand it to Jack Zimmermann. Either that man had so much game that he was playing chess while everyone else was playing tic-tac-toe, or Jack Zimmermann was the biggest and most lovable dork on the planet, and Bitty was helpless with it. 

No matter what, that man was not the hockey robot that everyone assumed he was on television. 

And for a moment, Nursey was really worried that Jack would take one look around the Haus and turn around and say ‘I’m not insured enough to be here,’ never to return, but that man fit in like a top corner goal. 

He was a laid back, self-deprecating, heart-eyed, blushing, utter dork who tasted eight different types of jam with homemade bread, and then ate a giant slice of pie and made the appropriate (and a few inappropriate) gushing sounds that had Bitty blushing. 

And then, because he was a gentleman, he pulled on dish gloves and set to work clearing the pile of dishes towering by the side of the sink. Even after all that, he helped clean the Haus kitchen all while the entire SMH team dropped by for one piece of pie and an ‘oh my god, I had no idea that Jack Zimmermann of the Providence Falconers, Calder winner and Stanley Cup Champion would be standing here’. 

If they guy was trying to win points or elope with Bitty, he didn’t have to work that hard. The only other explanation was that the man was a saint and Nursey was going to trade his earned wingman points for a lifetime supply of pie. 

“Half the team is in love with him already,” Ford said helpfully from the doorway. “The other half hasn’t met him yet, but the group chat is blowing up. I think Ollie and Wicks are trying to drive back to campus tonight from Texas.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Ollie. Have you ever been in the car with him?”

Ford shook her head. 

“Trust me. Don’t do it.” Nursey took another bite of pie and pointed at Bitty with his fork. “He seems happy. Bitty sat talking up a storm, while stealing every moment of time he could and Jack seems to be really okay with that,” Nursey replied. “Where’s the rest of the Falcs?”

Ford shrugged. “I think Marty went home pretty quickly. He said that there was no way he could justify staying out at a frat party when he promised his preschooler that they were going to the zoo in the morning.”

“Hashtag AWWWW.”

“Poindexter is floating around the house making disapproving noises under his breath. I told Tango to tail him for me and report back.”

“What won’t that dude do for you?” Nursey asked as Tango walked past the kitchen door and gave two thumbs up to Ford as he quickly walked by on Poindexter’s heels. 

“I told you before, I don’t have time to date and dating on the team would be the worst idea ever.” 

Which okay, yes. Dating on the team would probably be a horrible idea. That’s one of those things that could and would ruin the team dynamic, but damn it, Ford deserved someone who looked at her like Tango did. Another problem for another day. 

No, the problem at the moment was, for the life of him, Nursey could not figure out what was Poindexter’s problem. I mean, sure, despite all that Bitty had done in the house to introduce basic standards for living conditions, it was still a pit. You didn’t sit on the Haus Couch unless you were three sheets to the wind and disinfected from the volume of alcohol consumed. 

But everyone was having fun, except for Mr. Grumpy Cat who wandered around, frowning at the electrical outlets, and the crown molding, and the mantle that was slightly unlevel. And the hole in the wall that no one on the team knew how it got there. 

Nursey finished up this last bite of pie and took the plate to the sink. He looked over his shoulder to find Poindexter again, quickly retreating into the living room, Tango still trailing and asking about latex paint.

“That’s three times,” Ford helpfully supplied. “He comes in, looks at you, and then heads back out. And since the cooler and keg are in the living room, I think he’s coming to check you out.”

Nursey rolled his eyes. “He’s probably trying to figure out how to drag Zimmermann out of the Haus before something falls on him.”

Ford looked up over her head for a quick check. 

Soft giggles erupted as Jack added another streak flour to his other cheek to Bitty’s delight as they started mixing a batch of oatmeal cookies. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Helpless.” Nursey muttered as he made his way into the living room. 

It had been a long day and his eyes burned with each gritty blink, and all he wanted to do was to take off his smile and hang it up for the night. Maybe after he took out his contacts, and let his mild mannered alter ego to put on his glasses, then he could finish at least a chunk of reading before he commuted to Boston for work tomorrow. 

He was eternally grateful that Jack’s visit didn’t spark a full blown Haus Kegster, because that would have been a hashtag THING with the Swallow snapping pictures, and too many gyrating bodies in the Haus. But he could bet that Bitty quickly and firmly squashed that impulse by reminding everyone that this whole fiasco was supposed to be quiet until after the formal news announcement. 

Also, Bits was a smart man, who every once in a while, but not very often, knew how to treat himself. He may have been motivated to enjoy someone-on-one time Mr. Sports Illustrated, all by himself. 

The Haus was usually never this quiet, even with the current light milling of a few visitors, but he was still surprised he overheard Poindexter on a phone conversation. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry George. I know that we weren’t supposed to stay, but then Jack got distracted by the SMH captain. Yeah, that’s the guy. Anyway, he’s in the kitchen baking. I’ll try to drag him out soon. Yeah, of course we’re being model citizens. That was last year and this is now. The house is just full of wannabes and people who paid for a spot on a team. No bunnies. But yeah, there isn’t anyone here that could even tempt me.”

Nursey stubbed his toe as he tripped up the stairs, but caught himself just in time to sneak past unseen. 

First of all, right, he thought to himself, of course some rookie-ass hockey player would imagine coming on campus and expecting girls (or guys - it was Samwell) to swarm him. I mean, it’s bullshit, but Nursey had seen that entitlement before. But did Poindexter think a memo went out as soon as he stepped foot on campus? Okay, to be fair, yes, there was probably a news bulletin that went out when Jack walked onto campus, but that was to be expected when your ass had a dedicated Tumblr and Instagram accounts. But Dex? Naw. If anyone was interested in his behind, they wouldn’t know to show up at the Haus and watch him grumble at its lack of repairs. 

Second of all, what was this guy’s deal with shitting on collegiate players? No one was acting like they were ready sign a contract, even though Bitty probably could if he wanted to, definitely Whiskey. Did Poindexter think that everyone was ready to challenge him to a shoot-out for his spot on the team? No one had said boo to him except for Tango asking if he played with a broken finger during one of the final games, and, side note, okay that was really bad ass and kinda hot.. 

Up in his room, the time for extra effort was over. He changed into a comfortable henley, joggers, and his oversized frame glasses, he headed back down to find Poindexter curiously looking up at him from the staircase. 

“Are those real?” Poindexter asked, pointing at Derek’s face.

“My eyes?” And it wasn’t the first time Nursey had heard that mess of a pick up line.

“I mean… no, the hipster glasses.”

“They aren’t hipster glasses if you need them to see,” Derek said, shouldering past to walk into the living room.

“So, how do you know Chowder?” Poindexter began, so abruptly, that it felt like an interrogation. 

“I met him when he first toured Samwell. This was before he had decided what he was going to do with the draft. And he’s one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met.”

Poindexter gave a small nod and acted as if that was enough to invite more conversation. 

“So, then when he did get drafted and decided to delay playing, we were roommates for that semester.”

“Were you surprised he decided to play instead of finishing school?”

“No.” And since Poindexter looked confused, all pressed together eyebrows and a frown, Derek figured he should continue to use complete sentences to explain. 

“I mean, we just talked about it a little, what to do first. His years playing at his prime are limited, but if he invested well, education would be an awesome second act, right? Like, we treat school like it has to happen immediately at 18, but dude knew what he wanted to do. So, he just decided to play first, take some online classes and come back when he had some more clarity about what he wants to do in the future without the ‘quote NHL’ hanging over his head.”

Poindexter chewed the inside of his lip for a moment. Nursey didn’t rush to fill the silence and started looking around for an escape route. Ford and a few SMH alumni that made the drive down to Samwell, found them like that, standing too close together with a loaded silence between them. 

“This is William Poindexter. Will, this is Justin Oluransi and Adam Birkholtz. They played defense for SMH and were our captains last year.” 

Poindexter politely shook hands, but didn’t even crack a smile. He showed no sign that he pleased to meet Holster and Ransom. Nursey had no doubt that they would vanish from his mind the moment Poindexter went back to his unsolicited repairs. 

“Nursey! Still holding the line for us?” Ransom asked, throwing out a hand for a fist bump.

And Nursey couldn’t help but slip in a little chirp. Just a small one. Maybe two. “I don’t know, man. Poindexter here doesn’t think so. He seriously thought my game was so whack, I must be management.”

“Nothing wrong with being management.” Ford complained.

Poindexter groaned, “It was the sweater.”

“Excuse you. That was a Ford original exclusive sweater. I had to work harder than I did for dibs for that sweater. I’m going to wear it forever.”

“Ford knitted you a sweater?! What do I have to do to get one?” Ransom asked directly as Ford merely shrugged.

Holster threw his arm around Derek’s shoulders. “Nah dude, It's okay. It’s also this face. He’s too gorgeous to play hockey.”

“Yeah, but not gorgeous enough to tempt anyone,” Nursey said with a wink as he ducked from under Holster’s arms and walked back towards the steps. 

Nursey turned to face Poindexter and was supremely satisfied to see the dude red from the tips of his ears to his throat. 

“Now, if you all will excuse me. I gotta go. I have to go get ready for work tomorrow.”

Ford waved and gave the universal signal for, ‘I’ll text you later’ as Nursey gave a quick head tilt and ran back upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

At some point between 5:00 and 6:00 a.m., Nursey missed four text messages, the last of which was Ford telling him to get up and that she was downstairs with Annie’s coffee and work to do. 

Nursey rolled out of bed half and hour earlier than he expected. He headed downstairs where he found an equally exhausted Bitty throwing Eggos in the toaster oven with a giant paper coffee cup in his hand.

Ford, dressed in her “I mean business” pleated skirt and matching red cardigan, typed away at her laptop. 

“So, I missed something,” Nursey said to the kitchen.

“Falconers, specifically, Jack’s dad…” Ford began.

“Mr. Jack’s Dad if we are being formal,” Bitty called out from near the oven. 

“Decided to move up the press release about the training camps. It hit the news last night and since the Falconers went out in the first round of the playoffs, this gave the local press something to talk about. Everyone is having a field day. Even the Swallow started knocking. My phone has been ringing since 6:00 a.m. about shit I’m not paid enough to even deal with, but here I am with a video call scheduled with Falconer’s PR about how to handle questions in about five minutes. I had to hide out here because a few reporters are hanging around Faber like they are in line for the Ice Capades.”

“Are the Ice Capades still a thing?” Nursey asked, grabbing his coffee.

“Nope, but Disney on Ice is still going strong. That’s still on my short list of dream jobs when I was 10,” Bitty yawned back. “By the way, Jack texted and said Bob can be decisive. He apologizes for the fuss.”

Ford adjusted her glasses the moment before her computer buzzed. She picked it up and headed into the living room for a more quiet conversation.

“What time did Jack leave?” Nursey watched as Bitty chewed his cheeks trying to fight the smile, but it was futile. 

“A little after you went upstairs. That boy is so sweet. You know how Betsy acts up every once in a while? Well, he told me that I’m welcome anytime to his place and he would delighted if I used his oven.”

“Oh, delighted?”

“Shut up.”

“And are you going to ‘use his oven?’” Nursey asked with the finger quotes. 

“Stop it... No! I couldn't just go over to his house in Providence, and bake cookies.”

“What about a pie?”

“Derek Malik Nurse.”

“I’m just saying, you have that project due for Atley’s class, right? You said it yourself, if you want those extra credit points, you could make a one of those really fiddly savory pies.” 

And Nursey had been friends with Bitty for a couple of years now. He was very familiar with the buttons that just needed a little light push. “And Betsy is so unreliable. I’m sure Jack would love to help you with your homework assignments.”

Bitty threw a dish towel over his shoulder and frowned over at Nursey. “I hope you know that I know exactly what you are doing.”

Nursey shrugged. “I know you know exactly what I’m doing. So I am asking you, what are you going to do?”

Bitty’s frown slowly turned into a grin, “I’m going to text him.”

Nursey grabbed one of the coffee cups on the paper tray, noticing ‘Tango’ scrawled on the last one. Cute. He plopped down and sipped his coffee and watched Bitty send his message and then watched as he jumped five feet in the air and gasped.

“What?”

“I asked him if I could come by and he sent me a picture.”

Nursey was up and out of his seat, “Oh my god, did he send you a dick pic? If so, can I see?”

Bitty slapped at his arm, “Jack Zimmermann is a gentleman and no, he sent me a picture of his apartment stove to see if it would be big enough, and on my god, it is. It’s beautiful.”

Nursey took another long sip. “So is his stove big and beautiful enough?”

“Derek Malik Nurse!!”

“You’re just mad it wasn’t a dick pic.”

_/.\\_

Nursey wasn’t that concerned when Bitty wasn’t back by the time he got back from Boston, but found himself looking at his phone throughout the evening and into the next morning. As he stood on the rickety coffee table in the Haus, Ford carefully sewed piping onto the bottom of a long purple velvet tunic vest which that was going to be one of the highlights of her Etsy shop. 

“Okay, almost done. Thank you for your continued service to my small business.”

“Continued service? Chill. All I do is stand here reading while pretending to be a sewing form. Plus, I am in love with this vest. I’m ready to swashbuckle or something. What do I need to do to commision this perfect garment?”

“I’ll send you the bill, but you are working for that friends and family discount. When I’m done, I need a few new photos to post. I also want to do a few “in progress” shots. 

“You want pictures of my bicep?”

“And the tatoo. I get a bump in sales every time I post candids.” 

Nursey took another peek at his phone. 

Tango walked into the living room and jumped over the couch to flop down on the floor. Trust the dude to ask the questions that needed to be answered. 

“Where’s Bitty?”

Ford looked up from the couch, “He’s not back yet?”

Tango shook his head. “No, didn’t he leave yesterday?”

Bitty not checking in with anyone was weird. Nursey had held out hope that Bitty would at least call a tadpole to request an item or two from the grocery store. He had the sudden fear that he sent his sweet trusting captain all the way to Providence and into the arms of a player that he had no reason to trust. But if he called, maybe he would be interrupting Bitty potentially, finally, and deservedly having a really, REALLY good time. 

“You can call, you know. Like, a text message would not be out of place at this point. He does have a meeting with both the captains and Atley,” Ford added and Tango looked at her like she hung the stars. 

“You know his schedule?” Tango asked, because well…Tango.

“I know all of your schedules. Don’t you need to work on that research paper for biology?”

“You do care about me?”

Ford rolled her eyes, but her smirk gave her away. 

“Alright, sending text now,” Nursey announced as he tapped out a quick message. 

He was surprised when his phone lit up right away in his hand with a response. 

_“Hi, this is Jack Zimmermann. I have Bittle’s phone.”_

Nursey immediately hit dial, “Jack? Is something wrong?”

Ford and Tango jumped over closer on the couch, pushing each other slightly, trying to listen in.

_“It’s under control now. Bittle is allergic to fish?”_

“Shellfish,” Ford said, standing up and speaking loudly enough so that Jack could hear her.

_“I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry. Bittle was making his pie and I ordered take out and I think they mixed up our dinner orders.”_

“Is Bitty okay?” Tango asked.

Jack took a moment and spoke quietly on his side of the phone right before Bitty, _“Hey, y’all. I’m fine.”_

Ford snatched the phone from Nursey’s hand. “Talk.”

_“You know, I didn’t want to bother anybody. But I guess there was some mix-up in our dinner and next thing I know I had to use my Epi-pen and take a quick trip to the ER. Good news is that we’ve been here for a while and I’m in the clear to be released home. Jack was so sweet to stay with me.”_

Jack mumbled something that wasn’t exactly clear. 

_“Oh, hush, it was not your fault.”_

Nursey and Ford looked at each other while Tango took the opening, “Are you coming back? Ford said you have meetings tomorrow.”

_“I’ll hop a train soon. Jack has a trip that he is already late for because of me.”_

There was more muffled conversation. 

_“No, Jack I cannot ask you to drop me off. That’s too much. You need to pack and get ready to go. I’ll be fine on the train.”_

Nursey could already see where this was going, so he inserted himself again, “I’ll be there in what, 45 minutes?”

_“You don’t have to!”_

Nursey patted his thighs and realized he didn’t have his keys because he was wearing running tights under the vest and would need to run up the stairs to his room.

“Dude, Jack doesn’t want you riding on the train after you apparently nearly died on him.”

_“I didn’t nearly die. I probably didn’t even need my EpiPen.”_

“Uh huh. Look, if he’s cool with you staying for an hour longer, I can get there, and I’ll bring you home. Cool?”

Bitty relayed the information to Jack, _“Apparently, the gentleman finds this solution acceptable. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you both.”_

Nursey ignored the rest of that conversation, hung up the phone, and looked for the keys to his Honda. His sister had driven it up the week before with the intention that he would probably need it over the summer, especially with that internship. 

He had practically no time and there was nothing to be done about his hair or clothing options as he headed out the door. 

Ford grabbed him very gently by the lapel. “Bring my vest back in perfect condition.”

“I can just take it off.”

She rolled her hand, “No, you are a like a walking advertisement. Plus, drama!” 

Ford pushed him out the door and waved from the window. Nursey yelled out the car window that he would super careful - and then proceeded to worry about it all they way out of town. 

Bitty had texted Jack’s address and GPS took over the role as navigator and before Nursey knew it, he was almost there. Thank goodness for low traffic in the middle of the day in the late spring.

Providence was a great city, but Nursey thanked his lucky stars that it wasn’t as sprawling as New York or circuitous like Boston since driving wasn’t his favorite thing. He could do it, but he would much rather be on the commuter train reading, people watching, or zoning out to the scenery flying by. 

He parked on the street in front of a set of expensive looking condo buildings all in a row, and walked through the glass fronted one with the doorman, the bank of elevators, and chrome mailboxes with the tastefully bland decor peppering the walls in an understated, but lavish way. 

Jack had sent word that he was coming, so the doorman waved him on and he rode the elevator up to 25th floor to his apartment. He was surprised when Poindexter opened the door, but worked to quickly cover for himself.

“What the fuck?”

“Well hello to you too.” Nursey countered as Dex looked at his from the top of his head, all the way down past the awesome vest, to the running tights, to the Chucks on his feet and back up again.

“Why are you dressed like a stripper pirate?” Dex, with eyes wide, brows creased, bewildered. 

“Aesthetic?”

“I think you are joking,” Dex countered stepping aside to let Nursey in.

“What, didn’t you hear? Sleeveless vests and running tights are in this season.” 

Nurse looked around the condo. It was a gorgeous replica of a style catalogue. It was exactly what you expected from magazines and celebrity homes. Barely any pictures. Unfriendly stoney colors and not even a blanket thrown across the couch. Jack even went for the extra credit of the bachelor pad with a dark wood pool table in the corner and a set of racked balls that were still perfectly smooth and unmarked.

Ice cold and lonely, he couldn't imagine anyone relaxing here until Nursey came upon the brightly lit kitchen, where Bitty was carefully wrapping his pastry creation in wax paper while Jack hovered holding both cling wrap and tin foil rolls. There was a bright red standing mixer in the corner practically with its price tag still attached. 

“Bitty,” Nurse said to get his attention. 

Jack looked over, with both relief and disappointment, and Nursey felt for the guy. 

“Thank you so much for taking care of Bitty. I’m sure that an ER visit was not how you planned to spend the evening. 

“No, it was an honor. I mean, not that Bittle had to go to the ER, but an honor that I got to spend so much time getting to know him.”

Bitty walked his carefully swaddled creation over to Nursey. 

“Honey, I don’t think I’ve ever had such handsome company at the doctor’s.”

Jack flushed pink. Everyone appreciated an Eric Bittle smile, especially when it is served with an extra side of batted lashes and southern charm. 

“Can we take you to the airport or something?” Nursey asked, dangling his keys in the air. 

Jack looked over at him from watching Bitty’s trek to the door, eyes heavy. 

“Oh, no. Dex here promised to give me a ride and water my plants. It’s fine.”

Nursey looked around the apartment and couldn’t actually find any plants, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Even he knew that would be considered rude. 

“Well, I’ll get Mr. Shellfish out of your hair. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Nursey said, grabbing the Ikea bag of cooking supplies that Bitty had brought with him and ushering him to the door. 

Jack waved and as soon as the door clicked closed behind them, they whipped their head around, startled as he yelled, “TABARNAK! I’m SO LATE!”

“George is going to kill him and it’s my fault,” Bitty mumbled. 

“He’s one of the captains and his picture is on a billboard outside. He’ll be fine.” Nursey pushed the button for the elevator and even waited until they got to the car before asking, “So how was your weekend?”

Bitty leaned back against his seat, still holding his pie. “It was amazing until my face swole up and I could barely breathe. Oh my god, what does he even think of me?”

“That you do a cute puffer fish impression?” 

The deep sigh instead of a laugh wasn’t the best sign and Nursey pulled his car into the first Starbucks drive-thru he could find and ordered the sweetest thing they had on their featured menu, venti sized, and handed it over to Bitty.

“You had a long night, where you put yourself out there, ended up in the hospital where this guy stayed by your side all night…”

Bitty shook his head. “That was obligation.”

“Obligation my ass. He could have called his manage. Hell someone in the organization has Ford’s number. He could have insisted that you call someone, but he wanted to take care of you. Did you see that man’s face when you left? He looked you were leaving and taking all the sunlight with you. I know he likes you, bro. You just gotta let it sink in.”

Bitty smiled into his coffee. “Really?”

Nursey pulled and merged into traffic. “You are worse than Ford and Tango. Tell me one thing. Did he buy you a stand mixer?”

Bitty took a very deep sip of coffee and looked out the window. 

“Bitty?”

“He said that he already had it ordered! They were just delivering it when I got there!”

“In Samwell Red?”

“Coincidence?”

Derek kept his hands on the wheel in order to keep from throwing them in the air in frustration. 

“Yeah, a’right. You believe that if you want.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Hold up, that’s a definite look for Instagram. Strike a pose, please,” Ford called out to Nursey as he dragged his feet up the path to the Haus. 

But for his Insta, he pulled himself up a bit. Maybe not his best picture, but hey, he had a shitty week. Between the not as easy as he imagined (okay, hellish) commute, his summer classes burying him in the same amount of coursework as during the regular semester, but in half the time. Also he still needed to pull together some sort of plan for post graduation. Easy, right?

After Ford took a couple of shots, she couldn’t ignore his blatant performance art entitled, ‘Please Ask Me About My Day.’

And because she’s a good friend like that. “So how was work?”

“Oh my god.” Nursey dropped his satchel next to her and walked directly into the Haus and grabbed two beers from the fridge before coming back out. “You want one, too?”

Ford held out her hand and made a grabby motion for one of the beers. “Oh, it’s a double fisted drinking kind of story.”

Nursey leaned against the front post and looked out onto the cluttered yard and tried hard to manage his disappointment for something that he didn’t actually want falling through. 

Ford sipped her water and fiddled with the bottle in her hands, before just outright asking. 

“So, you want to talk about it?”

Nursey threw back his head, and drained the beer in about ten large gulps. He could feel the coldness slide down his throat and the chill eased some of the tension he had been holding since he rode home. 

“Jesus.”

Nursey knew that voice. That voice was haunting him.

He lowered the bottle and licked his lips. 

“Hey, Dex, are you thirsty?” Ford asked, and if Nursey didn’t know her as well as he did he might of missed it. 

But Ford was one of his best friends, even after only one year. Before he might have mistaken her dry delivery and completely straight face as sincere inquiry on his hydration level. Dex certainly did. The theatre missed out on one of the greatest actors in a generation by making her manager. 

In order to keep from laughing, Nursey called out to Dex as he walked up. “Hello Poindexter. Jack! What do we owe the honor of this visit?”

Poindexter walked up the front path with Jack behind him, both in Falconers t-shirts and basketball shorts. Jack’s yellow shoes could be seen from the Mars Lander. 

Jack shook his head. “Oh, is Bitty in? I just got back into town and I wanted to make sure he didn’t have any more shellfish.”

Ford smiled not so innocently, “Oh, no, he’s out running. We are currently on level four of his procrastination ladder.”

Jack blinked slowly at her.

So Nursey explained. “His academic advisor has threatened to lock him in her office to write his thesis proposal. And when Bitty gets stressed out, there are levels. First level, cookies or pie.”

Ford continued, “Second level, the Great British Bake-Off --- still baking, but competition worthy.”

“Third level, Jam,” they said in unison. “If fact, do you need any more?”

“And level four, he’s run out of butter, and so he goes for an actual run. In fact,” Ford said, using her hand to shield her eyes as she looked out towards the campus, “he has a really predictable route and he always ends at Annie’s which is over there. You could probably intercept him. He’s in light blue running shorts and a dark blue tank top, even though in this heat, he might have taken the shirt off.”

Jack blinked slowly again and then walked turned and walked, half jogged out towards Annie’s while he looked back and forth along the street. 

“Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

“Yep, it builds anticipation,” Ford whispered before turning back to Dex, abandoned in Jack’s haste. And because she was raised to be polite or some shit. “Would you like something to drink? I was heading in now.”

Dex looked over at Nursey, one of those loaded looks that bore weight. Nursey could feel his eyes catch and drag down his body. 

“Um, if you are offering, I could use a beer.”

She turned with a wink, and mouthed ‘thirsty’ before she walked into the house. Nursey looked at his watch, “It’s a bit early for you to let loose. A beer before 6:00 p.m., who would have ever thought?”

“Dex shrugged. Again, I think you are joking, but I can never tell.” 

Nursey pushed himself off the post and placed the bottle off to the side of his loafers, and when he looked up, Dex was staring at his feet. 

“So, I got a question for you.”

“Fire away,” Nursey replied, looking back toward the house. 

He wanted another beer, or rather a way to dull the uncomfortable game of second guessing himself, but if he knew Ford, she was going to give them a minute. 

“Why is it,” he began, words sticking a bit in his throat, “that everytime I see you, you look like a cover model of very different magazines?”

“Whoa, Dex, chill. That almost sounded like a compliment.” 

“Dex?” Poindexter mouthed and Nursey shrugged. 

Dex walked up the steps and began to lean against the opposite post, mirroring Derek’s position. 

“I suppose it is. The first time I met you…” Dex paused, “okay, well the first time I saw you, you were in the most prep-tastic Samwell sweater with the khakis and shiny shoes - like what I always imagined college guys wore in the ‘50s. Then later, you pull out this hipster jock look. The very next day, you roll into Providence in what looks like a stripper’s tribute to Prince.”

“God, I love that vest.”

Dex continued, “And then today, you look like you belong on a J-Crew catalogue cover.” 

Nursey tried not to be flattered, but the cheesy grin and warm sensation that was climbing up his neck wasn’t hearing the clanging of warning bells.

Happy for the distraction, Nursey turned to Dex and reached his hand over and onto his shoulder. 

“Look, I know that this may come as a surprise to you, but you are allowed to have more than one outfit. You are even allowed to have more clothes than just athletic wear. Live a little.”

Dex’s posture changed, crossed and closed off. “I have a suit.”

“One? A game day suit?” 

Dex’s grumbles confirmed that theory. 

“Look, I’ve seen you every day this week too and every day, you look like you only shop in the Falconer’s pro shop.”

“I give you a compliment and then you insult me?” Dex snapped.

Nursey lifted one eyebrow before continuing. 

“It’s not an insult, it’s an observation. Jack needs help too.”

Dex smirked, reluctant and small that grew as the moment wore on, “Those yellow shoes.”

“Right! You’re a good looking dude and clothes are fun. You should branch out from Under Armor and t-shirts.”

Dex glanced down at his shirt and then over at Nursey. He went silent which seemed to be a thing with him. And if emotional constipation wasn’t so damn common in hockey, Nursey would have been even more annoyed but he couldn’t say that Dex was really bothering him, just standing there, brooding.

“If I tried to dress like you, people would laugh.” He said, finally starting back up and it broke Nursey’s heart, that hesitation, but not enough to break one of his most important rules of self-care, don’t just jump with both feet in to fix people. Even if you really wanted to. Where the fuck was Ford when you needed a well timed interruption?

“They might laugh, but I give zero fucks what other people think of me.” 

That was a lie. Nursey was lying, but it sounded good. The fact was he didn’t care what strangers thought of him, but he cared very much about what talented hockey players who had careers that he wanted to emulate thought of him. He especially cared when they were kinda attractive and thick thighed. 

“Clothes, hobbies, doesn’t matter as long as it’s fun and not hurting anybody, you should have fun. Does the league have a dress code?”

“It’s a job. All jobs have rules. If you don’t follow the rules, you are out of a job.”

That stung, irritating and persistent. But Nursey couldn’t immediately find that thorn of insult to figure out why he took that logical statement as a criticism. 

Ford finally joined them, a six pack in hand and a smile on her face because she knew what she was doing. In the time she was gone, she could have run to the Stop & Shop. 

Nursey gave her a flat look which she ignored before running upstairs to change clothes. He made he way down just as Jack and Bitty sauntered up. Bitty, once again proving that he didn’t actually sweat, was holding a giant iced coffee, milky with creamer and sugar. Jack hovered nearby with a much smaller cup of coffee, but a huge smile. 

“Now, if you have time, I can quickly shower and whip you up a snack to go with your coffee. By the way, thank you again, it was so sweet of you to buy me something to drink.”

“It’s for interrupting your run.”

Dex slid a look over at Nursey and for a second, a quick connection, and the same thought of, “Oh my god, they are so extra,” but then Dex rolled his eyes and the moment was gone. 

Bitty ran into the house, leaving the crew outside and only Jack with a promise that he’ll be right back. 

“Bitty said that you were an English major,” Jack started, sitting on the steps and drinking his coffee after politely declining a beer.

“I am.”

“Going to get a job with that?” Dex asked.

And again with the needling sting. And Nursey could finally place it, the ‘unsaid assumptions’. He wasn’t sure if they were assumptions on his work ethic or his family’s financial status. 

It was already a long day. A day that required more patience that he had to give and to come home to this, just no. Time to go on the offense. 

“If my J. Crew modeling career doesn’t pan out, maybe I’ll fall back on hockey. Seems easy enough.”

And the blow landed perfectly. 

“You think you could play professionally?”

“Yes.”

“Not everyone is naturally gifted. It's a hard game, not sure if some preppy guy from a liberal arts school can swing it in the NHL.”

“It sounds more like you aren’t sure you could make it at a preppy liberal arts school.”

“I wanted to study history,” Jack cut in, his voice low, stern and smoothing all bristling feathers.

Dex frowned while Nursey took a sip from a new bottle of beer. 

“What school did you look at?” 

It was the best conversation change that he could hope for, and by god, he would follow through in order to avoid having to throw punches at a man that ran only on the hottest of hot and the most frigid of cold. 

“Here, actually. My mother is an alumna.”

Sometimes, Nursey would look at the moment, and try to transcribe it in his head like he was describing a scene in a book. There would be some prose about the reflecting light of the sun hitting the trees, something about the breeze cooling hot skin and adding to the condensation on the beer bottles. He would try to describe how utterly perfect and mundane this moment was but still capture that he too could easily imagine Jack sitting on the front step as a student, looking up as Bitty ran down the steps in a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Hey y’all? Hungry?"

Nursey smiled at Bitty. 

“I can imagine it. Jack, you could have been on our hockey team. You probably would have been our team captain.” 

Bitty looked up curiously between the faces on the porch. 

“I can imagine it,” Jack said softly, looking directly at Bitty. “I feel like I missed out.”

And damn, that man had game.

Both Dex and Ford looked at Jack like he had written them a personalized sonnet. He didn’t have to go that hard. Bitty would have been happy with a simple poem, “Roses are red, violets are blue, I really like hockey, but not as much as you.”

Jack followed Bitty inside, and left Nursey and Dex on the porch to deal with this general uneasy tension. Tension like that makes a beer taste funky, is what it does. 

“You never answered my question.” 

“That was a question? It felt like a critique.”

“No, it was a real question, what are you going to so with an English degree?”

“Read. Maybe write?”

Dex rolled his eyes but offered, maybe as an olive branch, “People who actually love reading and writing are pretty sexy.” 

And Nursey, dumbfounded, dropped the subject.


	5. Chapter 5

In the basement, in the deep freezer, and tucked into a box of frozen quinoa and grains, Nursey had the foresight to hide the last of Bitty’s hand pies over a month ago. He tossed them into the oven and made a huge bowl of popcorn while he waited for Ford to come hang out. 

She flew in a few moments later with a carton of ice cream in one hand and a pizza box in the other. 

“Where’s Tango?” 

Ford opened the pizza box and put the ice cream away in the freezer. “Quality time with Whiskey. Whiskey has been a little distant lately, he’s worried about the training camp.”

“How the hell can you even tell?”

“He’s been quiet.” Ford replied like it was obvious. “So Tango bought him a cast model kit that they are going to assemble tonight.”

“Whiskey likes model making?”

Ford nodded. “Adores it but not likely to admit it.”

They grabbed plates and glasses and headed towards the couch. 

Ford grabbed the remote and handed it to Nursey. “So you had a shit day, and so you get to pick what we watch tonight.”

“That makes me sound all juvenile.”

Ford put the food down, “You want me to pick?”

“Well, I do have a few ideas.”

The hand pies were the first to go. But they always were. 

Nursey zoned out Keira Knightley while Ford scratched his head with her blunt nails as they sat on the green sofa. 

“I quit my job today.”

Ford stopped scratching. 

“You quit today? It’s only been a week? You only worked two days. How the hell did you quit your first week?”

Nursey paused the movie, even though neither of them was really watching it. 

“I picked Collins Publishing because they didn’t know who my mom was. I thought that I could have a clean slate, get some experience under my belt and break into the publishing world.”

“Yes, that was the plan, what happened?”

He signed. “It just felt off. From the first day, the first minute, you know. I arrived Monday, all dressed up, there was no one there to meet me. I asked security and they followed me around like I was trespassing. So I call up to the floor where I had my interview, can’t find anybody. I finally get up the nerve to text my boss, which just feels weird as all hell, and he’s pissed and calls his assistant manager. Dude comes running in an hour later yelling at me for coming in on the wrong day, and I’m like, ‘But you asked me to come in today. I have the date listed here on my offer letter.’ Didn’t matter because Smith was adamant that I came in on the wrong day.” 

And that was just the start. The whole experience was disaster. Between showing up on the wrong day and the company not being prepared with a spot for him to work was enough to make him pause. .But Nursey considered himself to be the type of guy that rolled with the punches. He gave himself a pep talk, ‘It’s cool’. And he set up shop in the break room while trying to exude presentable, professional, and approachable as folks grabbed coffee and heated up bland microwave lunches around him. The professional act fractured when he accidentally broke the Keurig coffee maker and broke five dishes while trying to clean it up. 

“And then came the random bullshit. When you don’t have a desk, you stand out, and when you already stand out then you can guess the rest. Just sucked.”

Ford’s face frowned in sympathy. 

“But that’s not it. That I can handle. The final straw was when my boss decided that he should actually manage me, he started going over my work responsibilities and it was nothing like what we talked about before. There was nothing for me to do, but sit there and not be paid to pick up his dry cleaning and coffee while meeting their diversity ratio. On the second day, I spent hours reading writing rejection notices for stories I didn’t get a chance to even read and some sounded really good, but they didn’t jive with their publishing house.

“It was just clear that this wasn't going to be the stepping stone I thought it was.”

“The whole encounter was fucked up.” Ford agreed. 

Nursey reached over and took a sip of wine. “Yep, so I quit.”

“Seriously?” Ford asked, completely astonished. 

“Well, honestly, it was a mutual separation.”

“You got fired,” Ford stated, point blank. 

“Potatoes, potatoes.” 

It was quiet for a minute, and Nursey asked the question that had been bugging him all day. 

“Do you think I made the right decision? I mean, should I have just stuck it out? Would you have stayed?”

“Why?”

Nursey thought for a moment to find his words. “I don’t want people to think that I don’t want to work. I know I’m lucky. I get that. But where is the line between sticking it out to build character and bouncing because it’s inconvenient? 

Ford chewed on the straw on her water bottle. Her response was filled with cautious pauses, “You are worried that you took the easy way out?” When Nursey nodded, she continued. “I think, yes? I would have stayed.”

And Nursey burrowed further into the pillows of the couch and pinched his eyes closed. 

“Let me finish. I would have stayed, but I don’t think you should have. I mean my freshman year, I basically organized a play full of temperamental actors. This year, I organize a team of grumpy temperamental hockey players. I can handle people bullshit, but that’s my superpower.”

“Why did you take the manager job? Why didn’t you stay with the theatre department?”

“Better pay, flexible hours, and Lardo promised me that I could have my pick of hockey players to play dress up for my store.”

Ford patted Nursey’s back. 

“Hockey was a level up for me. You probably would do better in an environment with more flexibility, more self-intentioned projects and probably a whole lot less bullshit, geez.”

Nursey sat up and stared at the television screen frozen on a shot of Pemberley. 

“I don’t think I ever gave myself room to really explore what else I could be interested in. I know my parents really wanted me to have some freedom to find my passion and some shit, but at the end of the day, my mom drilled into my head that I needed to go out, get a profession, get paid, and then find enrichment outside of that.”

“Really?”

“Mom grew up in the Bronx. The brownstones of Manhattan are too new for her to relax. She works like the rent is short every month.”

“Cause it is.” Ford laughed and continued, “Look, I think you were right to quit. It wasn’t going to get better, it was an unpaid internship and it was clear you weren’t going to get anything out of that trade. How much time do you think you would have wasted, wishing and hoping someone discovered you there? Also there is a huge difference between tolerating your job and hating it so much that it steals your soul everyday. And now, you get to let me boss you around for a month and take some summer classes. And, train with your Providence Falconers.”

Nursey rolled back down and faced the TV. 

“Well, I’ll definitely stay until after the training camp, then I’ll head home with my tail between my legs.”

“Or,” Ford began like she was talking to an easily spooked cat, “you could stay here and flirt with a certain red-headed Falconer.”

“No.”

She thumped him with a pillow. 

“Oh come on, why? You have a thing for redheads. Don’t deny it.”

Nursey rolled over on his back and started to list out his excuses on his fingers. 

“One, I know that I have basic tendencies - I refuse to apologize for that and that includes pumpkin spice, too much bass, and the fictional idea of redheads. Two, he opens his mouth and even with all the sexiness that tall, brooding, and autumn-colored eyes can give you, he’s an ass. I mean, jeez, even if Grumpy Cat was interested, I’m not sure we could mesh. And third…”

“Hold up, go back to the fictional idea of redheads.”

“I just like the idea of redheads - like, in fiction they are always the super passionate ones that are ready to jump off cliffs for their friends. They are described as edgy or unapologetically smart. Like, you see a redhead in a cartoon, and you think, ‘They are about to get something done.’” 

Ford shook her head. “I’m sure that makes sense, but I’m not nearly drunk or high enough.”

“Denish, should we instead talk about your fear of commitment and using work as a defense mechanism?” Nursey asked, politely. 

Ford scooted over and felt around for her bag before pulling out her phone. 

“Yeah no, tonight we are talking about you, honey.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Bitty too much.”

“I think I have just the thing to cheer you up from this pity party you are throwing yourself. Check this out.” And she held up her phone as Nursey read out loud. 

“Ace Off - Drama on the ice with the Las Vegas Aces.” 

Ford continued reading. 

“In a late night trade, the Las Vegas Aces are packing their newest defender, William Poindexter to the Providence Falconers. Given his exceptional performance on the ice, many are skeptical about the reasons for such a brash trade. Maybe the rumors are true? 

“Kent Parson said, ‘It’s unfortunate. We are really losing out to let go of so much raw potential. The Aces are a team and we work best as a cohesive unit on the ice and off.’”

“So, what the hell does that mean?”

“Right?” Ford agreed before she skipped ahead. “It continues, ‘William Poindexter was seen last month at an exclusive club in Vegas fighting with other patrons and former teammate, including Carl Nilsson. While details remain unclear, police arrested Poindexter but charges were not filed...”

“I need so much more of that story.”

Ford turned her phone off and pulled out her laptop. 

“Well, that’s all you are going to get unless you are ready to dive deep into the internet. The Aces PR department pulled almost everything that I could easily find. You couldn’t pay me enough to work for the Vegas PR team. It’s fucking Vegas. I wonder how many stories they had to squash over the years?” 

“But that means the really juicy stuff is still out there.” Nursey flipped open his computer, “Challenge accepted.” 

He scrolled for a bit before stopping.

“Oh wow, I follow hockey, but I don’t think I knew what a fighter Dex was. He has more penalties for dropping gloves than Bad Bob Zimmermann.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s friends with Jack?” Ford replied, also deep in the search.

“Or maybe they decided he needed a chaperone.” 

Twenty minutes of searching pulled up multiple stories of Poindexter’s fights on the ice, but nothing until that one bar fight except for confirming that the PR department earned their money. 

A quick break to scroll his social media proved to be very startling. 

Ford, her voice quiet, “Hey, did you get a crazy number of new followers? Cause I think Alexei Mashkov is following me on Insta.”

And sure enough, “Well, I didn’t think it was that good of a picture earlier.” Nursey said, looking over. He had followers, but this was an absolute bloom. 

Nursey looked through the names, some familiar, most not, before noticing that he had a notification from @kitpurrson which could be anyone, but due diligence meant he had to check and, “Holy shitballs, we talked him up. Kent Parson is following me on Instagram.”

Moreover, he commented on a picture of Nursey and Poindexter standing on the front porch with a short comment, “Dex needs to step up his suit game.”

Ford looked over Nursey’s shoulder to see for herself. 

“So, see, this is where a high pitched EEEEE sound fits in wonderfully.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I don’t understand why you are nervous Bitty, I’m pretty sure you got this in the bag.”

Given that the Haus was about to host a few of Jack’s very famous teammates for a small summer kegster, a mini-kegster if you will, before the very public training camp with the Falc and Hawker recruits... Yeah, it made sense that Bitty looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. Hell, Nursey’s stomach had lived in his shoes for the past two weeks. 

Bitty began rolling out another disk of pie dough from the refrigerator. 

“I know it’s my nerves talking. I know my pie has won awards for a reason, but I keep thinking, ‘What if I oversold it?’ or ‘What if he thinks that my baking is stupid?,’ and Nursey I could never be with a man that thought my baking was stupid. I just can’t.”

Nursey pulled Bitty into a loose side hug. “I know I can’t help make the nerves go away by saying you have nothing to worry about with Jack or your pie, so, what can I do to help?”

Bitty rolled his eyes and pushed Nursey towards the door. 

“Nothing in here. If I help, you’ll end up nicking yourself and bleeding on my clean counters and floors. Go and check on the tub juice. I’m worried that Ollie and Wicks are trying to make it too strong. They want to impress Tater.”

“Oh no! People would die.”

“Exactly. Go distract them and dilute it with some Sprite or something.”

The tub juice looked fine and smelled like normal, which wasn’t saying much since it always smelled like bad decisions and regret, but Wicks swore on his honor that they stuck to the recipe Shitty had given him. All that was left was to let it marinate and allow the alcohol taste to mellow from battery acid to a mild burn. 

From the looks of it, the Haus was ready. The sound system was set up, the topmost layer of filth was removed from the couch and a sheet was tossed over to hide the rest of it. 

Nursey took a moment to check what he was wearing - a summer Haus Party was not something he wanted to take lightly. And while he was not as free as Shitty who could proudly wear nothing but an American flag Speedo, he did want to enjoy the weather and maybe just maybe flirt his way out of this funk he was currently residing in. 

He decided on his Age of Aquarius swim trunks and a blue tank and pulled out his prescription sunglasses. If he was going to hang outside, then he might as well be as comfortable as possible. 

Especially since Chowder, who had been knocked out of the playoffs a few nights before, was on his way. There was probably going to be an all nighter party/catch up session ending with coffee and hangovers at Annies. The Sharks’ game six against the Bruins was a disaster and Chowder walked up the stairs of the Haus, just as ready to unload as Nursey was. Maybe Nursey would help Chowder wheel a little, they would eat the promised pie that Chowder still waxed poetic about on Skype, and keep Nursey company for a little while he figured out what to do about...you know, everything. 

Chowder tossed his duffle bag behind the door and laid down on the air mattress set up in the middle of the room.

“This is ‘swawsome! You got dibs and everything! You have your own room!”

Nursey rolled over on his bed. “Why are you impressed? You play professionally in California. Wouldn’t you rather stay someplace nicer?”

“Are you kidding me! Did you ever see that movie, Sliding Doors? Like what if I never went to the Sharks. What if this was my room?” Chowders brows drew together for a moment. “But I would hate to take your dibs. Maybe we could’ve shared?”

“Aww, I missed you to roomie.”

“So we get to hang out at an actual Haus party? Will there be tub juice?”

“Oh yeah, and it’s going to be good! Shitty left the recipe but Bitty improved it by adding a whole orange and if it dissolves by the end of the party, you know it was a good batch.” 

“I can’t wait. Johnson wouldn’t let me have any my freshman year.”

“Because you would have died. I would have died. It would have been a tragedy for the school and for all of hockey. For that year’s tub juice, you needed to build up a tolerance.”

“Liver strength training?” Chowder nodded in understanding.

They both headed down the stairs. 

This party was fucking perfect timing, too. It was that magic window between the rolling circus of summer camps visiting Faber, summer midterms completed, papers submitted, and the sting from rejecting that internship lessened. It was a moment to let loose with friends, and ignore red-haired shadows that invited themselves to Haus parties.

_/.\\_

Even with it being billed as a mini-kegster, the party ramped up so quickly and Nursey found himself drunk and in need of a quiet spot against the wall. He let his weight drag him down to the floor. 

This was definitely a night for Nursey Patrol and his crew had left him high and …well, not dry. Dry would be sober and preferable to whatever hell this was. Chowder was preoccupied, hanging on every word the women’s volleyball team’s setter said in his general direction. 

Ford had snuck out early in the evening in order to meet a humongous moonlighting commission deadline through her Etsy store. And where Ford went, Tango followed, promising that he was sober enough to pass pins, iron, or do whatever she needed to finish the modified ball gown. 

Whiskey, who never really hung out anyway, quickly made his rounds before disappearing off onto the lawn to either hang out or yell at the LAX bros. Because it was never clear with that dude. 

And Bitty. Well, Bitty and Jack were still in the kitchen, speaking in nothing but smiles, light touches, and looks. 

Nursey had promised himself that he was going to take it easy. But what happened whenever you kept running into the moodiest Falconer on defense? You basically developed a new (and stupid) drinking game where you drank every time you made god awful awkward eye contact. 

After a beer outside, a cup and a half of tub juice, the party shifted inside. Wow, Ollie was a fucking liar. Or was it Wicks? Those two had the same Ransom and Holster vibe with the whole finishing each other’s sentences, that Nursey couldn’t tell. And he really couldn’t tell now because the room swayed everytime he blinked. 

“Yo, what the hell was in the tub juice?” He asked no one in particular. 

“At least a few handles of 151,” Poindexter answered, “And that’s impressive because I thought that stuff had been discontinued.” 

Nursey did not have the energy to put up the effort for ‘chill’ especially since the floor was rolling. But then Poindexter handed him a life-giving cold bottle of water with the condensation and the little clink of ice still frozen in the bottle. That bought the dude at least five minutes. 

The silence dragged on for a minute, Dex with folded arms, looking rigid and standing uncomfortably tall. Nursey smacked his lips once he finished the bottle and looked over at the dude. 

“What?” Dex asked.

“Nothing, I’m just waiting.”

Dex’s shoulders dropped and he unclenched his body, starting with his teeth, then his shoulders, and down. The effect was noticeable. 

“I thought you college guys knew how to drink.”

“DING DING DING! There it is!”

Dex folded his arms back, “What?”

“Every time I see you, you have an idea about college or me that you are just dying to prove right. Why are you even here?”

He fumed. “I was staying with Jack, and Jack wanted to be here. And then I thought Chowder would be here.”

At that, Nursey checked his phone, the water giving him the illusion that his vision wasn’t swimming, but whatever. 

“Naw, man. Chowder and I went out for a ice run, and he literally ran into some girl on the Volleyball team. Like, they collided, ice went everywhere, music started playing, the world went all slow mo...Anyway, he’s been trying to wheel her for the past two hours.” 

Dex took the water bottle and chucked it into a nearby trash can. 

“By the way, Kent Parson says hi?”

Dex went stoney and red faced and Nursey inappropriately thought of a dragon. “You are joking?”

Nursey held up his phone, “Nope. See? On Instagram. He commented on a photo of you earlier.” 

And Dex took the phone and looked at the offending comment for a few minutes too long before handing it back without so much as a blink.

He offered Nursey a hand, and pulled him to his feet. 

When leaning forward to put his phone away made Nursey lose his balance, Dex huffed, “Dude, you live here. Just go sleep it off.”

He was right, but it just grated at Nursey’s nerves, “I’m good. I’m so good, I could pull off a summersault if I wanted.” 

Dex bared his teeth a bit in a smile, a daring little smirk. “You’re serious aren’t you. No. I’m not going to even call you out on that even if it would be hilarious, because then I would be honor bound to take you to the ER.”

“Your loss. I am a man of many talents.”

“I’m sure you are.” 

And there was that suggestive tone again. That little shift in his voice that you couldn’t help but notice, couldn’t miss it. Because it woke up the butterflies in the stomach. It felt like a one of those caresses where the guy in a romance novel gently pushes a lock of hair back and behind an ear and Nursey was not having any of it. 

And look at that. He found the energy and pulled his arm away from Dex. He gave him a wink before he dragged himself up to bed which was such a sweet relief to fall into. He allowed himself to lay down and immediately fall into that in between place of sleep and daydreaming. 

_/.\\_

Nursey could hear the sounds of the party, beginning to fade out and the wind blowing outside, a mindless hum in the background. 

He laid, drifting off when a door slam and a urgent conversation reminded that the Haus walls were made of toilet paper. He could practically hear heartbeats next door. If someone was going to hook up, then he probably should make his way downstairs, help with the cleanup. The voices got louder and he realized they were climbing out onto the reading room. He stopped got ready to open his window farther and yell at them to get off the roof, but froze when he recognized the intruders. 

“I mean, look, Eric’s a nice dude and all, but he smiles at everybody. He calls everybody sweetheart. You don’t want him to get the wrong impression that you are into him when he isn’t.”

Jack’s voice, with his slight accent and the undercurrent of Captain asked, “Do you think I need to be more clear? 

Dex whispered, “How? Everyone knows you like him.”

“Good. That’s good, because I do.”

Dex backtracked, “I know, but don’t you think that you should be a little more careful?”

And any other time, Nursey would have hated himself for being such a blatant eavesdropper. But not today. 

“With what? I like him, he likes me. I’m not trying to hide it. I’ve been out to the team since my draft.”

“But once you are attached to someone, that’s when it becomes real. And it can’t just be a fling. It has to be…”

“This sounds like some Parson nonsense.”

Nursey stood up and backed away. It was one thing to steal flashes of conversation, but another to steal secrets. He grabbed his water and tried to ignore the rest, even though he could hear it clearly since they were right outside his window. 

“...years for me to understand that. His concern was for his reputation. That’s not a way to live.” 

And Nursey wanted to see Dex’s face. Was he blushing? Frowning? Did his ears get red when he was pissed?

Out of nowhere, apropos of nothing, Jack began, “I hate my condo. I didn’t pick anything out for it. I just picked the first pre-furnished condo in Providence that was within ten minutes of the ice rink. And when Bittle asked if he could come over to bake, I didn’t even think about it, I immediately went online and found a mixer for the kitchen, and I bought the red one because why the hell not, and I love that damn mixer. So much. I bought hand towels and salt and pepper shakers and oven mitts to match. I stacked up all of my jam on the counter. I even went out and bought new cutting boards that are different colors so that I don’t have to worry about shellfish touching veggies. And I actually like my kitchen now. I want to sit in there and listen to podcasts.”

Dex started to interrupt, and Jack didn’t let him. 

“What I’m saying is that I’m going to go talk to Bitty and make sure that he knows my intentions. If he likes me, great. If he wants to just use me for my kitchen and oven, I’m completely okay with that too.”

“But what if he’s not serious? Like, this needs to be serious. Right? Not just some fling. It’s too much to lose over a few dates and sex.”

Jack was silent and just when Nursey thought he wasn’t going to say anything, “You don’t believe that, do you?” And even if Nursey couldn’t see his face, he could hear the tone, set in stone. “You have to take a chance to make the shot.”

Jack must have gone down the stairs, given the sudden creaks, but he didn’t think Dex had moved yet and how could he, Jack Zimmermann just read that man’s life story. 

It took a moment for Nursey not to want to cheer, but he especially didn’t want to run into Dex in the hallway, so he waited until he heard that second set of footsteps head down the hall before leaving his room.


	7. Chapter 7

Nursey could smell cinnamon rolls, bacon, and coffee which meant that somehow Bitty survived the night of evil tub juice. 

Chowder was still passed out on the air mattress, hair still long and shaggy from his playoff run, and snoring slightly into his stuffed shark from Ikea. Nursey tiptoed around him, which meant that he stubbed his toe and practically fell on top of the dude, but it was a testimony on how tired he was, that he only sniffed and rolled over. 

Nursey trotted down the stairs to find BItty dancing by the stove, which was unsurprising. Bitty somehow always managed to be the first one alive after a raging Kegster, which defied all logic to Nursey, because he was also the same dude who you had to drag out of bed for early morning practice. One time, Ollie and Wicks had to carry him to his 9 a.m. class after he was threatened with academic probation. 

Apparently Mr. I ONLY PULL ALL NIGHTERS FOR FOOD wasn’t alone. 

Jack Zimmermann sat in the corner, wearing an extraordinarily tight Samwell Men’s hockey shirt with the number 15 on it. 

“Hey! Breakfast?” Bitty sang.

Nursey stared at Jack just casually scrolling on Bitty’s computer like this was something that he did everyday. 

“Nursey? Breakfast?”

At that, Jack looked up, and his cheeks flushed, but he looked so damn happy about it that Nursey could only say, “So… congrats?

“Oh, it’s nothing like that…” Bitty started to ramble, stirring the eggs on the stove with a little more force than necessary for a basic scramble. 

“It is exactly like that. I asked Bitty out and he said yes. And thank you.” Jack said grinning, still scrolling through the computer. “Hey, look Bits, they have a couple of summer history classes open. I wonder if I could audit a few classes. Do you think it’s too late to try and register?”

Bitty, was still frozen at the stove, holding a spatula. Nursey walked over and nudged him with a small hip bump. 

“I told you. I think you owe me. I take payment in pie.”

Bits, to steal a phrase, bless his heart, still looked as if headlights were heading straight at him. 

“You know all of my favorites. Now, if the timer is set, and the eggs, are done, you should go help Jack pick out some classes, nudge nudge wink wink.”

“You think he would be interested in Atley’s history seminar?” Bitty asked, quiet, a bit unbelieving, and happy. He sounded so fucking elated that Nursey’s heart grew two sizes too big. 

Nursey hit Bitty on the arm with a dish towel before shoving a plate of bacon into Bitty’s hands. 

“Oh my god, Bitty! Drag him back upstairs for morning sex, and then feed him cinnamon buns and make inappropriate jokes about his ass. Then once he leaves, come and give me all of the deets. All of them.”

Jack had excellent hearing and didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up the plate and then tossed Bitty over his shoulder before asking, “Hey, do you mind if Dex comes by for breakfast? I know he spent the night at a hotel nearby, and I want to check in with him.” 

Bitty lifted his head, “Oh, yeah! I always make too much food. There should be plenty even with you vultures.”

With that, Jack and Bitty headed upstairs all while Bitty giggled and slapped at Jack’s back which to be fair, was clad in the tightest sweatpants with JUICY written across the ass. And that, Nursey thought, justified Bitty purchasing those throwbacks to the early aughts from the thrift store because that had to be the best spent two dollars ever in the history of thrifting. 

The rest of the team eventually made their ways downstairs as Nursey poured himself his second giant mug of coffee and was trying to decide if he should, not could because he totally could, eat another cinnamon roll and still make sure that there would be one left for Chowder. 

Who knew that the Haus needed bylaws for pastry, but indeed it did and therefore, as duly noted, there are no dibs called on baked goods. 

Wicks grumbled an apology about misplaced ratios and whatnot. Ollie only laid down on the table and swore that he was passing the torch on to someone else. 

It wasn’t until after Nursey sent an urgent text with, “Get down here, supplies are dwindling,” that Chowder and Ford showed up, both ready to take the last cinnamon rolls and scrap up the last of the eggs.

“Oh my god, they are better than I remembered,” Chowder said, checking to see if there was indeed one more. “Do you think Caitlin would want one? Is it okay if she comes over?”

Nursey placed one of the last two cinnamon rolls onto his plate and when Ford wasn’t looking, put it in one of the cabinets.

“Dude, There’s one more as long as she’s not on the LAX team, she’s more than welcome.”

_/.\\_

Once Bitty and Jack waved goodbye later that afternoon to run an errand which Derek wasn’t completely sure didn’t involve some smooching outside, (but he wasn’t one to tease especially since Bitty would fine him until his kids owed money), he decided to kick back for a few and scroll news feeds for folks who were even mildly interested in dragging Poindexter through the mud. 

He was kicked back on the sofa with one a cup of tea when he heard a heavy handed knock at the door, which he wasn’t in a rush to answer since he didn’t know when anyone would be back. 

But the heavy knock pounded on the door again and he had no choice but to get up and find Poindexter, pissed off and sweaty at the door. 

“Jack’s not here but I saved you a cinnamon roll,” Nursey said, because that must be obvious given it wasn’t his condo. 

“Wait, what?” Which seemed to now be their standard greeting. Dex regrouped, “I know Jack isn’t here.” 

And okay, they stood in the doorway, neither moving until Poindexter slid past him. 

“Can we talk for a minute?”

And that didn’t sound ominous at all. But Nursey shrugged and closed the door while Dex paced like a caged animal around the green couch. 

“I fucking hate this and I can’t do it anymore. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t with you. So, do you ever want to hang out or something, with me?”

“What?” Because there was no other response to that. Just, astonishment on a blank face because Nursey didn’t even understand what the hell was happening to even have an expression which was enough for Dex to continue.

“Look, I have thought about this, and fuck it. People are going to talk, but I can’t stand it. Don’t you feel it? There’s this pull between us. And like even though it could ruin my career and I don’t even know how to begin explaining you to my family, I found some hipster rich New Yorker, you are going to stick out like a sore thumb, but you gotta take the shot, right? This could be great?”

“Or it could be horrible, and we should trust those feelings, because those feelings are valid,” Nursey replied, because, what the everloving fuck. 

“Look,” he continued, because he felt it necessary to be very clear with this dumb ass. “I know I should be flattered, so thank you for thinking that I am some sort of special exception to your ‘no homo’ rule, but nah. This was whack and I’m sure you will get over me after 30 minutes on Instagram, maybe five on Grindr.”

Dex’s face paled for a minute, before all the blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. “That’s it? You aren’t interested? Just, nah and chill?”

“There’s also that cinnamon roll I told you about.” 

“Fuck you. I know I didn’t imagine it. You not interested in guys or just me?”

And Nursey lost it. It was already on such a short string that it was a relief to let go and let it out.

“You,” he said with more calm in his voice that he thought he could manage. “You just walked in here and not only insulted me and basically dumped your anxiety and shit on me about even being seen with me, but I’m supposed to be all fucking flattered despite the fact you haven’t even managed to say something nice to me with one hand without punching me in the back with the other. Look, I tried to be polite about it, so now I’m going to go for blunt. We aren’t compatible, this is lust. Move on.”

Dex fumed and Nursey decided this fool needed to go. “And what the fuck was up with you telling Jack not to date Bitty? They are so happy together. Are you so miserable, that you decided that you were going to drag your friend down to your level?”

“I won’t apologize for that. Jack is in the NHL. He’s one of the best players in the league right now, and he doesn’t have time for lukewarm flings. I got my friend’s back.”

“Like Parson? Funny how you ended up on a team across the country because you couldn’t be a team player, but Jack, you got his back, right? Real team player you are. MVP.”

“So what? You don’t like me because I reasonably warned MY friend to stay away from puck bunnies, even if they are team captains at Samwell, and you believe some gossip websites? You weren’t there, you don’t even know what happened. I bet, if I had been all sweet about it, all,” and he included the finger quotes, “hashtag soft, you would have been all over me and we could have avoided all of this. I liked you even though you are stuck up and think that you are too good to work. You aren’t even that good of a hockey player, but I ignored all that.”

“Back to my first point, fuck you. Two, fuck this confession or whatever you want to call it. Three, even if you brought your WHOLE game, I still would have shot you down from space, because there has been no moment that you are thinking that would have ever made me think, ‘Okay, maybe?’” 

Dex started to say something, but instead chose not to interrupt. 

“You mad? Seriously? From the first minute you opened your mouth, you have been putting your foot in it. You keep trying to act like you are some nice guy, but you are entitled as hell. You are weirdly insecure for someone who gets to play a game for money with a ton of other guys who have a ton of money, so get off my back for having a mom with a publishing deal.  
Look around you, your friend is happy, you could be too, just not with me because there is no fucking way we could ever be a thing. You good?”

“Whatever.” 

And Dex turned heel and walked out the apartment with only the slam of the door to mark the occasion. 

Nursey sat flat onto the floor as soon as the door closed and made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob because what the fuck. There was passion simmering under that “Netflix and chill” proposal and it was honestly the best offer he’d gotten in a while. All from this asshole whose whole purpose in life was to suck the joy out of everything. No. Nope. Fuck that. But, there was a very small and easily ignored part of Nursey’s brain that wanted to high five someone that he could even inspire that sort of emotion out of anyone, let alone a guy whose spine was so stiff, there was no room for flexibility. 

He laid on the floor and counted the track lighting and thought to himself that the new plan was to find someone who would walk in, and confess his or her feelings directly (without any insults of emotional blackmail) and then, he didn’t know, jump them?

The click of the doorknob made Nursey scramble to pull himself into a sitting up position by the time Bitty and Jack walked in.

“Honey? Did you fall again?”

Nursey plastered a huge fake smile on his face. “You know me too well,” he said before he launched himself into his room.


	8. Chapter 8

After stumbling into only two trees and a teenager with the summer campus tour, Nursey barged his way into one of the small buildings on campus and into a large closet that Ford had carefully turned into the textile studio and found her carefully working on the hem of a Victorian inspired jacket to match the incredible ruffle shirt she made earlier for a cosplayer. 

“He wrote me a letter!” He announced before falling onto a couch and waving the letter in the air. “Do you see this shit?”

Ford finished enough to get to a stopping point and before looking over to look at the business envelope. 

“Oh, you mean like a letter letter? It’s heavier than I expected.”

“So, it’s longer than a ‘fuck you’ but shorter than the standard, ‘But I’m a nice guy’ whine?” 

Ford shrugged. 

“You haven’t read it? I’m surprised you didn’t immediately open it and start reading it the moment he handed you a letter. Wait, wait…” Ford said, handing the letter back to Nursey. “Why the hell did that man hand write you a letter like it’s 1810? Doesn’t he have email?”

“Right? I have no idea.” Nursey said sitting up and carefully cradling the letter in his hands. “Shit, it’s kinda brilliant though. Like, I was ready for a vague mention on Twitter or maybe even smack talk on Instagram. Even if he emailed me, I could have just deleted it and been done, not even curious. But this… he took some time, found paper and an envelope, wrote some shit, wrote some more, sealed it with his spit.”

“Ewww.”

“And I found him at the Haus when I was leaving for class, trying to stuff the envelope in the mailbox.” 

“I’ve never had anyone write me a letter before that wasn’t related to me by blood or saying thank you for knitted socks or something.”

Nursey hummed. Still cradling the letter in his hands. It looked small, the way it fit easily between his index finger and thumbs. “I haven’t either.”

Ford moved over behind him and draped the large Victorian gentlemen's jacket and slacks over his shoulder. “So, I’m just saying, you should read the letter with a little extra style, right? I mean, if you are going to read one fucking letter with this much potential drama attached to it, then you should also match. You feel me?”

“You want me to put on your fancy clothes so you can take pictures of my face journey for your store?”

“And the drama. You can’t forget that. We need to find a copse of trees or something.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me and you love this idea. Now go put on the pants.”

_/.\\_

Nursey stretched next to a park bench, drawing his legs up to his chest before bending down. “Are these yoga pants with an extra junk flap?”

“I know it’s not accurate at all, but let me tell you, I love athletic fabric. Spandex is a modern marvel and I won’t let anyone tell me otherwise.” 

Ford panned around with her camera. 

“Okay, over there,” she said before artfully arranging Nursey on the bench with the trees behind him, the russet jacket carefully fanned, showing off all of brass buttons she had carefully added. She fluffed out his hair with a pick, pulling a few of his curls up and out while he posed holding his letter. 

“Okay, you look great. Now take me on this face journey.” 

And Nursey did because William Poindexter might be a emotionally constipated turd, but his grammar and punctuation was swoon-worthy. 

“Derek, don’t worry. This letter only serves as a way to clear up a few of our many misunderstandings. I see now that any belief that there was something between us, was due to my error in judgement. In regards to J and E, you accused me of trying to separate them and to be fair, I did. Even though I was traded to Providence this year, Jack has not only become my mentor and my closest friend not only on the team, but also of my entire career. 

And so when I observed that he had feelings for E, I merely wanted to make sure that my friend was not setting himself up to be disappointed. As you know, in this profession, we are propositioned on a regular basis by people who might only want a hook-up or those who want a five minutes in the limelight. While I never thought that E was someone who would intentionally take advantage of J, I couldn’t help but notice that he was quick to take advantage of J’s apartment. Also, he is flippant with names of endearment and it was hard to see if J’s feelings were returned. But I will admit that I overstepped my bounds and I am happy that my attempts to warn J failed. That was an error of judgment of my part that I will have to make amends for. 

Furthermore, despite all of the tabloid stories of my time in Vegas, there isn’t one that has managed to get the story correct. It is true that K.P. and I had a complicated relationship, but the stories of my rivalries are far exaggerated. But even if we managed to ever be friends, I do not owe you an explanation of my past. You don’t get to judge me on something you know nothing about. 

Even though this was a disaster, I don’t regret meeting you and the team. I’ll stay out of your way on the ice. Good luck during the recruitment camp. 

Dex”

“Well, that was a fucking roller coaster.” Nursey said folding the letter up to tuck into the large cell phone pocket Ford had sewn inside. It was infuriating that he wanted to just throw the letter into the trash, but he also wanted to frame it. He had to be very firm with himself. Because wow, this was the hottest thing that he’d ever read. 

He cursed his frustrated heart. 

Ford nudged at him. “You don’t have to tell me what it said, but you totally should because watching you read it felt like one of those silent movies.”

“He can write.”

“Please, raise your standards, Nursey,” Ford deadpanned.

“No, seriously, he pisses me off something fierce, but I can appreciate his ability to put pen to paper.”

“So, what did it say?”

“The long and short of it? He thought Bitty was a gold digger and there was more to the story of Vegas, but I need to mind my own business.”

“Huh. So, he tucked a little ‘fuck you’ in the letter.”

“Yep.”

Ford sat down on the bench next to Nursey and handed him her camera. 

“Well, if you must be mad at him, I’m in full support, but let me just tell you, ‘Angry Victorian Nursey’ should be a look. I’m gonna get some many commissions.”

A little bit later, Ford showed Bitty the photos from the shoot. Nursey, relieved of his apparel and back in his standard button up, raided the kitchen for anything remotely edible since the dining hall hadn’t reopened yet and foraging for every meal was time consuming. Plus, cooking required a learning curve that he was not going to let Bitty or Ford even guess at, thank you very much. He was a grown man and he was going to act like it. But first he was going to eat the strawberry rhubarb pie Bitty made. 

“Those pants are kinda tight, don’t you think?” Bitty asked looking over Ford’s shoulder. 

“I was not prepared for the full scope of hockey butt measurements.”

“Oh hun. I’m not complaining. I’m placing an order.”

“For you or Jack?” 

Bitty blushed and giggled before turning to his oven.

Nursey leaned against it and popped back up quickly. “It’s hot!” 

“Well, of course it’s hot. I just made three pies!”

Nursey shook his head, “I mean, obviously, but you got it to work?”

Bitty grinned. “Dex did. That boy showed up here about three or four hours ago? And fixed the oven and gave me the sweetest stumbling apology with a few compliments mixed in. All I could do was accept it and bake a pie to send off with him to Providence. He’s a fast learner. He wove a beautiful beginner lattice crust.”

Nursey choked on his bite of pie. 

“I know you didn’t just spit out my pie like that.”

“Dex was here? Here, here?”

Bitty looked at Nursey with a ‘bless your heart’ in his eye. 

“Yes, I just said that. He even helped me make that crust for the pie you are currently eating.”

Nursey’s eyes widened and he looked down at his plate in horror and wondered if all the stories about arsenic tasting like almonds was true? Would that mean it was most undetected in baked goods? 

“Why are you looking at my pie like it’s poisoned?” 

Both guys looked at Ford as she guffawed loudly. 

Nursey still looked horrified, Bitty looked confused and Ford looked like she might not be able to stand up for a minute.


	9. Chapter 9

The first time Nursey had seen the ice at Faber, he thought that it was the most beautiful rink that he had ever seen. Between the lights filtering through the windows with the trees swaying just outside, he knew that he wanted to skate there and he submitted his acceptance that weekend to Samwell. 

Stepping out into the building with about 30 Boston Hawkers, a handful of Falconers, and a few SMH, made it no less magical and infinitely more stressful.

“I’m going to throw up,” Bitty whispered. “There are already journalists taking pictures. I just wanted to practice skating with professionals.”

And yes, Nursey wasn’t fully prepared for this much spectacle. Training at Andover, that was pretty tough. Training at Samwell? That was majorly tough. This though, promised to be something else and Nursey could clearly see the line that divided the professionals from everyone else. 

“You ready for this?” Jack asked quietly as they all watched Chowder launch himself at Snowy coming from around the corner with a few other Falconers. 

“No,” Nursey said to himself. “You guys didn’t even have to come.”

Jack shrugged and threw an arm around Bitty. “I wanted to support you. It’s like you are my team.”

Bitty preened, “Aw, Sweetpea.” 

Chowder jumped back to the group. 

“I wanted to come to! I forgot how stressful it is. It’s nice to see it from the other side. Plus, I missed the ice here. ”

Nursey tugged at the bag on his shoulder, brushed imaginary lint off his jacket and finally stood off to the side and gawked as his good friend, a professional hockey goalie, run off to talk to other semi and professional hockey goalies. 

Other players filtered in, either professional, minor league, but clearly on par to play professionally, and a bunch of confident wide eyed scouted players who, by this time next year could be hanging their draft jersey along the wall of their brand new condo. 

And suddenly the imposter syndrome became overwhelming and Nursey barely made it to the bathroom and into a stall before freaking the fuck out, because he didn’t belong here with these guys. The cream of the crop. 

Everyone would know just by looking at him that he was one of the Samwell tagalongs that only got to attend development camp because his coach pulled a few favors. Even if his name was on the wall. 

He wasn’t even that good. A mediocre D-man on a small college hockey team, that maybe made it to the final four, but Nursey knew that that was just as much a product of luck as it was skill. Had Harvard had a healthy first string defense or if Dartmouth hadn’t been weighed down with so many penalties. So many opportunities for better teams to edge Samwell out of the running. 

Would it be cowardly to just sneak out? 

Would it kill his soul a little to just leave and head home to New York?

Would he ever be able to play the level of hockey he wanted to at Samwell if he passed up this opportunity?

“I’m not going to miss my shot.”

“Nice. Hamilton,” And Nursey nearly jumped out of his skin.

Poindexter stood outside of the bathroom stall, looking out of place and pink around the ears. 

And Nursey stood there staring, feeling the heat in his cheeks and down the back of his neck. His flight impulse was momentarily overwhelmed by adrenaline gearing up for a fight. He stood frozen waiting to see which would win out. 

“Jack said you ran in here. They are getting ready to go through the schedule and assign teams.”

Nursey nodded because that was a fact and not enough to go on. He still didn’t move again. 

Poindexter looked uncomfortably down at his feet, up at the florescent lights, before stepping off to the side around Nursey and to the sinks were he needlessly washed his hands. 

“You know, you do fit in. You do belong here.” He said into the suds in the sink. 

Poindexter grabbed the paper towel from the dispenser with enough force that multiple paper towels filtered down and onto the floor,and as he watched them for a second, eyes closing in resignation and a soft whispered ‘why?’ , before he calmly squatted down to pick them up. 

He spoke really lowly, “Trust me, I’ve seen the tape. Jack has been watching the Samwell games since he met Bitty like he’s editing Bitty’s documentary or something. Point is, I’ve seen you play. You are good. You belong here. Don’t stress.”

Dex was just as mortified as Nursey was. It showed and that’s what broke the trance Nursey was stuck in. He spoke up then, not quite comfortable enough to smile, but something. “Did you just tell me to chill?”

Dex’s ears went from pink to red. “A little? I mean, yeah? Don’t let it go to your head.”

Nursey’s laugh was a little too high pitched to call a chuckle. “You make a good pie, man.”

It was Dex’s turn to impersonate a statue, and Nursey felt something continue to warm in his chest looking at Dex. 

“Well, yeah, I guess I can learn new things everyday, too. Are you going to eventually leave the bathroom? I can only wash my hands for so long.”

Nursey shrugged, easing back into his comfort zone, “I mean, there is running water. I could stay here for a while.”

Dex threw the wad of paper towels into the trash.

“Nah, you are braver than that. Plus, if I can work up the nerve to talk to you ever again, then you can work up the nerve to go onto the ice.”

The chirp came easily. “You didn’t actually talk to me as much as those paper towels.”

Dex huffed and walked out and as the swinging door, swung behind him, Nursey thought to himself, “Well, shit.”


	10. Chapter 10

Later that afternoon, from the moment that Nursey stepped out of the training room, he found himself ducking the stares of the public (who the hell were these people?) and sport reporters all ready to give their take on who was the one to watch (and worse, who was the one to cut).

It made the pit in Nursey’s stomach grow heavier and larger with each passing second. If it kept up, it would slow him down during the afternoon skate, and despite the mantras going on in his head of, “it’s just a game, it doesn’t really matter anyway,” all his useless brain could focus on was how it was clear that he didn’t belong. That walking-fish out of water sensation was all too familiar and still just as grating. 

Lunch couldn't arrive fast enough, but it was a short break, and it was the first time that Nursey got to actually sit down with Bitty, Whiskey and Tango. Bitty looked awfully chipper compared to Whiskey, but come to think of it, that was probably common. Whiskey was not a smiling type of guy. But he wasn’t a complainer either.

“Let me get a picture. The ‘Ask-a-Wellie’ page loves this shit.” Ford said, motioning for Tango to squeeze in. 

“Will you get my good side?” Tango asked.

“Turn around then,” Ford said, blank-faced Tango looked fucking delighted as he posed in the shot, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Have you ever worked your legs so hard it felt like they were burning and numb at the same time?” Nursey asked afterwards, pulling his tray closer to him so that he could maybe eat or take a nap on his sandwich. 

Bitty pulled out a basket from who even knew where, and began passing out protein shakes and muffins that he made the night before with Jack. 

“One day, let me tell you about my training with Katya. I would leave practice and my momma would need to practically carry me to the car. This is on par with that.”

“And how are you smiling right now?” Whiskey asked, staring at his phone and looking bored, but Nursey was sure there was wonder etched somewhere on his face, maybe in the arch of his eyebrows? 

“Oh, well, Jack warned me and so he showed me his nutrition plan and we made a few modifications to my diet over the last week to optimize protein.”

“Optimize protein?” Tango asked.

Nursey patted his arm. “Look we can’t ask questions we can’t handle the answer to. And because it’s Bitty, you can never tell if thing like, ‘optimize protein’ or ‘butter my biscuits’ are really as innocent or as raunchy as they sound. Personally, I like to err on the side of caution and just make Bitty pay up because it definitely sounds like a PDA fine.”

“I’ll have you know, Derek Malik Nurse…”

Chowder plopped down next to Bitty, “Oh my god, muffins! Are these banana chocolate chip?” 

He stuffed his face and then turned to the group. “So, what do you think of your first development camp?”

Whiskey shrugged, which maybe meant he was stoked to be there, but only Ford and Tango could translate his body language and they were currently smirking at each other. 

“It’s ‘swawesome, right?” Nursey continued, “The trainers are so intense and, like, I think they know how to push you to reach for that next level that the collegiate college schedule doesn’t have time for. But it also feels like a giant spy game where everyone is trying to figure out who the next NHL standout is going to be.” 

Chowder gasped and stood up before frantically waving Dex over to the table. 

“Nursey was telling us his impression of camp.”

Dex slid a glance over at Nursey and say what you will, that guy was brave. “Everyone is trying to figure out who is going pro next year?”

“That’s exactly what Nursey said!” Chowder yelled. 

“He’s not wrong. I mean, everyone in here probably has a list of little things they need to work on, but it hasn’t even gotten truly competitive yet, wait until you get on the ice. That’s when all the politeness melts away.”

“Polite? Some dude in the weight training session almost dropped a 200-pound dumbbell on my foot,” Nursey recounted.

“Well, he did say excuse me afterwards, didn’t he?” Dex took a huge bite of his sandwich. 

Even though Poindexter didn’t even glance over at Nursey, and the tension felt like a weighted blanket, it wasn’t as horrible as it could have been. Seriously, it could have been an utter shit show and instead it was a mildly uncomfortable TV sitcom complete with a few glances and shared snarky laughs as they went through and categorized the competition.

Maybe they would never be lovers, but maybe they could be acquaintances that didn’t leave the room when the other showed up. And looking at Jack and Bitty, that would probably be the best possible outcome. And in light of all that, as Nursey made that fleeting eye contact with Poindexter, well Grumpy Cat wasn’t the worst person in the world to know. Chowder liked him and that was as ringing of an endorsement that you could possibly get. 

“I know that I helped organize half of this, but like, seeing it all unfold. I’ve never seen so many reporters,” Ford said, looking out onto the ice as teams split up for the afternoon scrimmages. 

“And you said you didn’t want a job in PR,” Nursey said, looking for his name and comparing where he was going to stack up in the line-ups. There was a guy that he had checked hard against the glass at Dartmouth and he worried for a moment if he was the type of guy to let go of bygones. 

Games like this were rough because the trainers and coaches were guessing who would work best together. And with competition this tight, Nursey still wanted to skate to impress, but maybe he should be grateful to be tucked away on the bench and given only a few minutes of ice. But he had never been good at settling. 

BItty was currently on the ice, picked for one of the first scrimmages and Jack stood close by, half listening, while watching the players like it was an exercise in calculating how he would change his game to compete against them. 

“Like, I have questions, was there a seminar on how to answer hockey questions with only vagueness and bland answers?” Ford asked.

“It’s easier than trying to lay out all of your business and flaws when you know the other team is dying to pry it apart,” Jack shrugged. “It’s tough. I had an interview earlier this year where the whole time, everyone was trying to get me to emote about Kent Parson so they could build it up as the reunion of the year.”

“Oh, what did you say?”

“Nothing at all. It’s best that way. There are a few people that if make room in your head, they would take over. Gotta stay clear headed to compete.”

Dex, who had been sitting nearby nervously rubbed his hands along his pads before getting up and quietly walking away. He had suited up with pads at one of the coaches request to help even out the numbers, and Nursey watched as he walked towards the locker room to finish lacing up for the scrimmage later.

“Does Dex ever talk about his time with the Aces?” Nursey asked voice low, still wondering what made Dex fade away like smoke at the mention of Parson. 

“Nope.” 

And when Ford raised an eyebrow, Jack took the hint to elaborate. 

“Look, he’s a private guy. It’s probably best not to talk to him about the Aces. It’s rough being traded, especially over the shit that went down,” Jack replied.

“There was shit?”

“With Parson, there’s always shit.”

Ford and Nursey stared at him, wide eyed willing him to continue.

“I’ve said too much.”

Nursey carried that thought with him around in his pocket, something to think about later after he tried to keep up with a few new recruits


	11. Chapter 11

When Nursey skated, he felt like his real self without the edits and the polish. He didn’t have to contain himself to fit within one size fits all box that people expected. And on the ice with SMH, he felt that so acutely. The burn of the cold, the sounds of the ice, the weight of the gloves. It was perfect, and he never thought that it could have been improved upon until he skated with William J. Poindexter.

It had been over a month since Nursey had gone full out on the ice, and even then, that was post playoffs and just shooting around with Bitty. But this was how you played deep in the season when both teams needed that one last point. Passes connected, and for someone that he thought that he was in no way comparable with, it was eerie to feel like he knew exactly where Dex was at all times. It was fluid one moment and forceful the next and so precise, it made Nursey tear up a little. 

If Nursey could pull back and look through a lens of time, he would probably guess that this moment, he would replay in his mind as his best hockey ever. It felt wasted to play this well for a scrimmage in a game that didn’t really matter against guys that were definitely going semi or completely pro, but it soothed that fear that said he wasn’t good enough, because for a moment he was, with Dex skating by his side. 

Nursey shook his head, that thought was almost too sappy for him. Even if it was true. 

There was something truly sexy about how Dex skated. 

And it was on the tip of Nursey’s tongue to tell him that, but self preservation is a real instinct that Derek has cultivated and it definitely was trying to save him from dying of embarrassment. 

Cellies were the worst though. 

Because in the moment of getting a shot past a goalie that seemed to have learned his entire game from watching Neo in the Matrix, all improbable blocks with limbs that were not there a moment ago, it was so easy to crush himself into Dex’s side and knock their heads together. And it felt like an intimate whisper, even when Dex had to shout to congratulate him on a good shot. 

And Nursey, who had always prided himself on having the words, only managed a, “You skate good” in reply which was way more embarrassing than telling Dex that he was sexy but Dex may have heard the subtext anyway given how his ears burned brighter than they had from just the cold. 

Chowder sat next to Jack on the benches, cheering for his fantasy rookie hockey league, crossing team lines to root for Bitty and Whiskey drive the puck towards the goal, only to switch sides and cheer when Nursey hit a slap shot from the back half with hot handed assist from Dex. 

When the final whistle blew, Whiskey had etched out a one point lead through an incredible game of speed which even Dex had to admit, proved that Bitty’s role as captain came not only from team leadership and camaraderie, but with a level of coaching that upped everyone’s game. 

Nursey moved with the other bodies forward to exit the ice, riding high the feeling of endorphins of a game well played at his top level without the crushing disappointment that comes with loses during his own season. 

He was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder and Dex’s voice whispered into his ear, “Hey, look over there.” 

And when Nursey glanced at the boards and saw Georgia Martin talking with Coaches Hall and Murray. 

Dex slapped him on the back, “You know, most guys boast that they can keep up in the NHL. I gotta give credit where it’s due. You actually backed it up.”

And Nursey stood there for a moment as Dex walked on, completely flummoxed.


	12. Chapter 12

Nursey couldn’t be sure, but he was 80% certain that Jack was trying to move into the Haus. 

When everyone collapsed back at homebase for the evening, Jack had arrived a few minutes earlier and began unboxing a ton of food that he had delivered because he was a saint and Nursey would happily walk Bitty down the aisle for a guy like that. 

The Haus dinner felt almost as busy as during with school year, even with half the team gone. But with Dex, Chowder, and Jack, rounding out the numbers, they were still able to put away a huge volume of food at the same decibel levels that everyone was used to.

Tucking into his plate, Nursey scrolled through his newsfeeds and noticed that Kent Parson had posted a picture of himself at the Logan International Airport with a note, “Partying with friends in Boston.” 

Which was something. And so he said so. 

“Hey, did you know that Kent is on his way to Boston?”

And for real, how many times can you say that you literally heard one of those expressions, ‘The room stood still?’ or ‘He heard the record scratch’? Clearly not enough because the sudden change in the room was dramatic and noteworthy. 

“He wouldn’t,” Dex muttered under his breath. 

“Yes, he would,” Jack countered. 

And Nursey watched the exchange like it was a Serena versus Venus tennis match. 

Dex’s shoulders slumped, his cheeks mottled, and the flush on his arms made his freckles blend together and despite all of the discomfort, embarrassment, and whatever the hell type of truce they had as they hung out in the same room, Nursey felt for the guy. 

The room started to move again. Food was being consumed, Ford silenced a barrage of Tango questions with only a eyebrow and a head shake. Whiskey disappearing off into the ether, and Nursey innocently thought the odd moment was over. 

He started to shuffle over to the stairs, the leg bench presses catching up to him and making walking a challenge. Dex walked walked past and out onto the porch with his cell phone, without even noticing Nursey on the stairs. 

Up in his room, he pulled off his shirt and opened the window to let in what passed for a cool breeze when he heard Dex down on the porch. 

“No, I don’t have time to meet up. I’m not even at home right now.”

He really needed to stop eavesdropping. Today. Definitely tomorrow.

“No, Jack isn’t around either. We’re at Samwell… helping out with that development camp.” He could hear, but not see Dex pacing around in front of the house, steps measured and heavy. “No, what the hell is wrong with you? No! Don’t call him either! Jesus! Fine, fine. There is a small bar around here, I’ll text you. One drink and then you go find someone else to bother.”

Dex walked off the porch and hung up the phone and for a second, Nursey thought he may throw his phone, but he dropped his head back and looked up at the sky as if answers or a lightning strike might be up there. Sadly, there was only Nursey, feeling slightly ashamed, but not enough to stop, 

“Hey.”

Dex jumped and stumbled over his feet before backing up onto the lawn to look up. 

“Chill, falling off the front porch is usually my gig. Find another shtick.”

Dex’s cleared his face except for anger eyebrows and a frown and Derek saw the only play he had. 

“I’m sorry, I just happened to be up here. That sounded intense though. Wanna talk about it?”

Dex folded his arms over his chest. 

“Scratch the word ‘wanna.’ Do you need to talk about it?”

And Dex shook his head and started to walk off towards the sidewalk before stopping and putting his hands on the back of his head for a minute. 

He turned back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Nursey shrugged, leaning further out of the window to do so. 

“Okay, well, if you want, Good Time Walkers is a great place for a drink. It’s kinda quiet during the summer, so you can grab a booth and the music is loud enough, it feels kinda private.”

Dex’s face crumbled up, eyebrows drawn together, he was startled and confused, and Nursey loved the fact that he could see it from his window. 

“Hold on.”

Nursey threw on one of his favorite button-ups, a zip-up hoodie, and a pair of chino shorts along with his favorite pair of Chucks and ran down the stairs, picking at his hair with his fingers, as he went down hoping that it was enough to fluff back out his curls from a locker room shower without his favorite conditioner. 

Dex was standing in the doorway and Nursey spun him around and walked him out the door before anyone else could see them. 

“What is happening right now?”

“We are going to go see your old captain, and confront this specter that is wrecking your chill,” Nursey said, still guiding Dex down the street. 

“You are joking. You have to be joking.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t even know where to start with this.” 

And Nursey could understand that. Because he didn’t even understand why he was so invested in helping when ten hours ago, he was just coming around to the idea of being friends. A week ago, Dex was the last man on earth Nursey wanted to ever see again. And the week before, he was a kinda cute jerk who confused realness with meanness. Hell he didn’t even think that he and Dex could ever be in the same room let alone be friends. Life comes at you fast. What a damn surprise.


	13. Chapter 13

The bar wasn’t that far, and with long legs, it took only five minutes to walk to the row of restaurants and small businesses that thrived on college student’s money even during the slower summer months. 

Nursey opened the door to the bar and waved at the waitress before pointing out a burgundy vinyl booth in the back, with a smooth wooden table and a pitcher of water already set out. 

He walked over to it and plopped down, all with Dex trailing behind reluctantly. 

“So, will this work?”

Dex looked around and nodded and texted something on his phone. 

“Why exactly are you helping me?” he asked.

Nursey had pondered that during the walk over and had fragments that kinda made sense, but not when you put them all together.

“If we put aside everything that happened over a week ago, everything from that point forward, kinda makes me want to be your friend. Between you talking to Bitty and baking pies, showing up and being supportive during training, like, I see why Chowder talks so highly of you. I get why you are friends with Jack. And then, we played together.” Nursey threw his hands up. “So, we are linemates now, and the rules are clear here at Samwell, I got your back.”

Dex laughed, and it was real. 

“It’s that easy, huh?”

“Why shouldn’t it be? Plus, I gotta admit, I gave you crazy extra credit points for having exceptional grammar and penmanship. Like, that bumped you way up in my esteem.” 

“And here I thought it was just because you like to see me suffer.”

Nursey poured a glass of water and passed it over to Dex. 

“No. I don’t want to see you suffer.”

Dex took the glass, spun it around for a minute. 

“Thanks. I, um, same.”

Nursey raised both eyebrows in confusion. 

“I mean, yeah, it’s just that I think I want to be your friend, too. Also, what do I have to do to earn a sweater?”

“Ha! All I know is that there will be a lot of kids growing up in the future with the first name Ford.”

Dex was funny. He did have to dig in with some hard work carrying the conversation alone, but it was worth it, because when Dex did start contributing, he was an absolute fountain of dry wit.

“Weakest chirp game?”

“Guy. There are no chirps. You just end up flung across the ice.”

“And the best?” 

“Easy, Marty. Marty chirps you and it summons your ten-year-old self and you suddenly feel like you got called to the principal’s office. You aren’t old enough to skate with him. I think it’s the tone. It’s all disappointed sitcom dad.”

Nursey drank another half a glass of water. He had switched over from beer because he had a day of training ahead of him and he needed to get up at 5:00 a.m. because hockey started too many hours too early. 

 

Dex had followed suit, and the conversation still flowed. 

For all of the times that Nursey had known Dex, this was only the second time in which he would consider them alone. And Dex was the sort of guy that you needed to get alone and in his comfort zone to really get to know. Uptight wasn’t the word. But contained and self conscious. Even with the temper, his sense of humor, he reeled it in, almost afraid to showing too much. He covered his mouth when he laughed too loud, and looked down when asking direct questions. And Nursey took it as the greatest compliment that he could chirp him out of that shell. 

“You think Harry and Hermione should have gotten married? No, absolutely not. Is this some sort of strike against Ron? Because he was awesome in every book.”

“I completely agree with you!” Nursey said, knocking his thankfully empty water glass down again. 

“People give Ron such shit, but redheads get shit done,” he said pointing at his own hair and Nursey nearly snorted water out of his nose. 

The bar hadn’t really filled up, still with a slow flow of people that they both almost got too comfortable, almost forgetting why they were there, until the reason walked in, with a backwards baseball cap, a brand new Shinola watch, and a Stanley Cup ring on his hand. 

“Did ya miss me?”

Nursey wasn’t sure if Dex did or not, because all of his warmth dropped from his face like his smile. 

And uncertain wasn’t a look that Nursey wanted to convey, so he pushed himself out of the booth and offered up his hand.

“Kent Parson in the flesh.”

“What’s up man? Kent returned the hand shake.

“NIce Instagram, and awesome run for the cup.”

“Some years are better than others,” Kent said, still squeezing Nursey’s hand firmly and making unnerving eye contact. 

Nursey met his gaze evenly, still unsure if he was being sized up or checked out.

After an uncomfortable long moment, Kent let go and Nursey reached over and touched Dex on the shoulder. 

“Hey, do you want anything from the bar?”

Dex tapped the one empty beer bottle that hadn’t been picked up on the table and Nursey nodded. 

“I’ll take anything on tap,” Kent called over before sitting down in Nursey’s vacated seat. “Dex, you look good, man. Must be the colder climate.”

Nursey walked over to the bar with Kent’s words bouncing around his head sounding like every regretful jerk in existence when bumping into his successful ex and wasn’t that a lightbulb of a thought. 

While the bartender ran to the back to refresh her stock of beers, Nursey leaned back on the bar and watched the story in their body language play out. 

Kent Parson was a good looking man. He looked like a Hollywood playboy, with the tousled blond hair and quicksilver eyes. If he managed to keep all of his teeth and his nose from being broken too many times, he might have a career on screen. 

The contrast with Dex though was mismatched. Poindexter’s attractiveness wasn’t on his face. At least not at first glance. He was too closed off for that. It was in his aura and the set of his brow. It was in his hands. And then, when you did win a hard earned smile, there it was, clear as day. 

Either way, they looked good together, in the way that two very pretty people always looked like they should be in an ikea catalogue together. 

It hadn’t been long, but Nursey could definitely read him better than he could a few weeks ago. Downcast eyes meant that he was embarrassed; and the flush meant that he was furious. And Kent continued to sit there, smiling and completely relaxed, shoulders slacked and grin easy and Nursey knew fake chill when he saw it. He was an expert in fake chill. He taught the course on fakin’ it. This was a fellow chill scholar. 

Whatever he said next, must have been a doozy because Dex stiffened, his shoulders practically by his ears and when Kent leaned forward in the booth, Dex leaned back, clearly embarrassed and ready to bolt. 

And that was Nurse’s cue. He hurried back, three beers in his hand, and he almost made it back without spilling any. He was relieved that he at least spared Dex even though he wouldn’t have minded ruining Kent’s shirt. 

“How’s it going?”

“Kent was just leaving.”

“But my beer just got here.” 

Kent grabbed his glass and took a big gulp and watched carefully as Nursey slid into the booth next to Dex and threw his arm over his shoulders. 

When do you ever notice the first time you really touch somebody. It’s mundane, how many times he slaps a teammates back, hugs a classmate or friend. Nursey realized that he hadn’t actually touched Dex before, and maybe this was too much now, but he didn’t want to move in case he lost ground in this weird power play with Kent. 

Kent looked tired, a crack in his emotional, protective armor. It was all fake smiles and bravado and those were always the most brittle and transparent. Hiding behind expensive luxury items only did so much, especially out of place in a small college town bar in between semesters. 

“I meant it when I said I was sorry. I regret the way things played out.”

With Dex under his arm, Nursey could feel each breathe Dex took and he could feel the tension still vibrating in his ribs. 

“Well, yeah.”

“But this…” Kent said, pointed between Nursey and Dex. “This is new. How long have you been dating.”

And Dex’s face was a liability. He didn’t have enough melanin to play poker. Before Dex could fumble a response. 

Nursey chimed in, “I just met Dex a few weeks ago.” An honest non-answer.

“And how’s Zimms?” 

“None of your business.” 

Parson tsked. “Dex, I’m trying to be polite here.”

And Dex chewed the inside of his cheek, still tense under Nursey’s arm. “He’s good. He’s happy.”

“He looks it. I have seen some of the pictures.” Kent drained his beer. “What are the chances, you know? That you would end up here with Zimms.” 

“What are the chances? You damn near packed my bags.” Dex snapped. 

Kent took a much longer sip of his beer, wrote words in his head, erased them, and started over. “I thought that this would be a good move for you. It’s weird, the Falcs seem to have their shit together. They are a more…” he paused and rolled his hand, “Open minded. Hell, maybe I need to talk to my agent when my contract is up?”

“I didn’t have a say in it.”

Parson sighed. “Neither did I. The managers decided.”

“But you didn’t try to stop it.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry about that.”

Dex stood up his own beer untouched, pulled out a few bills to toss on the table, and held out his hand for Nursey. 

“Whatever, man.”


	14. Chapter 14

“So on a scale of one to ten. How did that go? I have no context,” Nursey asked, hands in pockets, side by side with Dex on the chilly walk back to the Haus. 

“Maybe a five?” 

t was cold enough that Nursey handed over his hoodie halfway home when it was clear that Dex was either shivering in rage or cold. He couldn’t tell, and a hoodie is always appreciated. 

“I mean, nothing really happened except for a guy hopped on a plane, flew into town with no notice just to say, hi?” 

Dex looked too sad for that to be all. 

“I’m awkward,” he said.

“Water is wet,” Nursey replied. 

Dex shoved Nursey in the shoulder. “Also there is a reason you shouldn’t try to date teammates, especially your team captain.”

Oh. OH. 

“Kent isn’t really a bad guy.” Dex said, words escaping. “I think I ambushed him a bit with, you know, feelings.”

“Gasp. You don’t say!” 

Dex huffed. “And I think he was trying to let me down gently.”

“Gently? Gently, like shipping you to the other coast?” 

Dex shrugged again, like he was trying to play it off like this wasn’t a devastating life change all because his crush couldn’t be a grown up.

“I didn’t take it well. I’m trying to do better.”

They walked up to the Haus, and Dex stopped short of the front porch. 

“I should get going. It’s an hour to Providence and I really want to lay down in my own bed.”

“You sure? It’s a long drive, you can crash here.” 

And Nursey laid out the line, flat, and hoped that he didn’t sound like that was exactly what he wanted. 

“And make Chowder share the air mattress? No. I’ll be back to catch the end of training though.” 

He pulled out his phone and spun it around his large freckled hands. 

“Um, if you want, you can text me—just in case something interesting happens before I get there?”

It took a couple of seconds to exchange numbers and here the little confirmation text chime on his phone. 

“Yo, let me know when you get in, man.”

“You worried about me, Nurse?” Dex asked, staring down at the ground while he tucked his phone away.

“Nah. Big strong guy like you? Wouldn’t think of it.”

Dex huffed a small laugh, but it was still a laugh. 

Derek bumped shoulders with him and began to wave goodbye. 

“Thanks for coming with me and, you know.” He made a vague hand waving motion, the universal signal for not having the vocabulary. “I don’t have many friends.” 

Nursey smiled full and unchill, but honest and open, “Glad I made the cut.”

And Dex returned the smile that he immediately turned to try to hide. And that stupid wave of affection came back and Nursey decided to blame that for the reason he tripped up the stairs to the porch. 

Dex had the nerve not to laugh and that just made Nursey like him more. 

Fuck.

Chowder swung the front door wide open. “Hey guys! I’m so glad that you two are hanging out! I always thought that you both could be really good friends.”

Nursey gently pushed past Chowder to go inside and waved back at Dex. 

“I can see it too.”

_/.\\_

At 3:00 am, there could only be one reason anyone would call him. 

“Someone better be in jail or dead.” Nursey mumbled into the pillow and phone.

“Jail.” Ford replied—sounding extremely awake. “And I need you and your credit card to come and bail my boyfriend and his dumbass bestie out of here without telling Bitty.”

“What?” And now Nursey was wide awake. 

“It’s a long story, but apparently, Whiskey, still not talking about his nervousness about training camp, decided to drown some nerves, dragged Tango with him to Walkers, ran into Kent Fucking Parson, why the hell was he even here? They all got drunk on bad decisions because it’s Kent Parson, and then ended up in jail, because, of course. Alcohol and SMH is a recipe for property damage.” 

Nursey hopped out of bed and started pulling on his joggers and shoes and practically tripped over Chowder who only rolled over and gently snored. 

“Why are you calling me instead of Bitty?”

“He’s with Jack?” Ford asked.

“Probably.” 

Nursey grabbed his wallet and keys and began to walk out his door. 

“Kent told me not to call Jack. And don’t wake Chowder. We can hide one NHL star, but throw in any others, that’s a scoop on TMZ.”

Which was true and obnoxious. 

Nursey tiptoed out of the room.

“Hey, look, my phone is going to die but I’ll call you back on a landline. Hold on.”

Nursey was to his car when his phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize. 

“Okay, where the fuck is the jailhouse? You are in Samwell, right?”

 _“So, it is true.”_ Dex replied from the other end. 

“Crap!”

_“Dude, just go back to bed. You have a ton of stuff to do in the morning. I’ll take care of it.”_

Nursey unlocked his car and jumped in. 

“No, I gotta go get my teammates and hope that this all can be disappeared before morning because…” Tango and Whiskey could lose their scholarships. They would be kicked off the team. Ford would be pissed for the rest of eternity. Nursey was sure that Bitty would still make them pie though, but would sympathy pie even taste good?

 _“I can hear the wheels turning in your head now. I’m already parking in front of the courthouse. Go back to bed.”_ Dex urged. A door slamming on his end of the phone.

“How did you even know about this?”

 _“Kent called. Again.”_ Dex explained. _“I’ll call you back in the morning or sooner if something comes up.”_

Nursey wanted to argue some more. “But won’t you get recognized?” 

Dex huffed with irritation. _“Yeah, but that’s why I’m wearing a disguise. I decided to take your suggestion and wear something that didn’t advertise the Providence Falconers.”_

“Oh, and what is that?”

Dex laughed. _“I’m in your Samwell hoodie, flannel and jeans. I think I blend in perfectly.”_


	15. Chapter 15

If Nursey was tired, then his favorite WTF trio looked like they had run a midnight ultra marathon. 

Ford snoozed with her head in Tango’s lap while Tango propped himself up next to Whiskey. 

Bitty frowned at them from the kitchen doorway. 

“If they weren’t so darn cute, and I didn’t have training in the next 15 minutes, I would give them a real piece of my mind.”

“Oh? What type of pie,” Nursey asked, sniffing around the kitchen for something portable to take to practice. 

“I said a piece of my mind, not pie.” Bitty replied, reaching over and pulling out a tray of granola bars from the counter. 

“Hmmm… pie or a piece of your mind. Bitty, let’s be real, most of the time, that’s the same thing for you.”

“Ha ha.”

“I don’t know what William did to get everyone out and kept the media quiet,” Bitty said going back into the kitchen. “What type of pie do you think he wants?”

Nursey shrugged. Even with Bitty’s skill to make pies appear out of thin air, he wasn’t sure it would ever be enough to repay him. 

Nursey walked to Faber with a coffee and a weight off his shoulder, and much more confidence than the day before. 

He pushed open the door, phone in hand texting his mother, and ran into Dex so hard that his teeth rattled and his phone dropped to the floor. 

“Jeez. Save the checks for the ice.” 

It took a second for words to form. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Providence, sleeping?” Nursey asked, still perplexed. 

“Yeah, I figured that I was already here until 5:00 am. Might as well stay.” 

Nursey looked around. “Should we talk about what happened last night? Ford only gave me the basic rundown between snores.”

Dex had bags under his eyes and was frowning, which makes sense given that he pulled an all nighter after bailing his ex-something out of jail. 

“Same thing happened all the time in Vegas. I’ll tell you about it later? Want to grab dinner tonight?”

Was this a date? It didn’t matter. The answer was going to be yes regardless.

Dex nodded before grumbling and walking off to talk to Chowder and Jack.

And fuck. Oh, fuck. This was bad because Nursey now *knew* the nuisance of Dex’s good-natured grumbling. In fact, when he looked over, Dex gave him a fond scowl that turned into a smirk. 

The truth hit Nursey like a hard body check. 

This wasn’t just a back burner, ignorable mosquito type of crush. This was horrible. This was a wasp sting. A fire ant crush. This hurt because it was real and now too big to ignore and there was no going back. 

Just when they were getting to be friends. Damnit. 

Nursey looked back over at Dex as he spoke to Jack and in that uncanny way, their eyes met and Dex winked at him. 

Now the buoyancy he felt was now ominous. It felt like free fall. It felt like love. And wasn’t that a damn mess. Why couldn’t he just settle with friendship? Was that too much to ask?

After three hours of throwing himself into any drill, exercise, and training exercise, Nursey managed to push Dex out of mind. He was so hyperfocused on not thinking about Dex that he was umprepared for a local reporter to corner him and thrust a recorder in his face. 

“What are your plans in the future? Any hopes of signing once you graduate?”

And honestly, whoa. Chill. Nursey was using this moment to freak out about the nature of his relationship with a sexy grumpy cat and so it took a moment for him to pull together his face. 

Nursey had to convince himself that no one really had all the answers all the time, including the roster of guys in the building now. Life was too unpredictable for you to have everything totally figured out, and that gave him the confidence to answer. 

“You know, once I graduate, I would love the opportunity to continue the game that I love. If I can compete, then the door is open for the future.”

The reporter wrapped up with a few more minor questions about Samwell’s performance last year before walking over to talk to another recruit.

“That was a great media response.” 

And a tall woman, with a solid handshake and steel in her eye introduced herself. 

“Georgia Martin, Assistant GM with the Falconers.” 

Nursey didn’t always get star struck, but what the fuck, he knew who Georgia Martin was. 

“Two-time olympic gold medalist,” he said.

“I usually leave that out of the title.”

“Why? If I had a gold medal, I would wear it everywhere and introduce it like it was my offspring.”

Georgia laughed. “Look, I’ve been watching you and I think that we should talk soon about your plans for the future.” 

Nursey had the sudden urge to to wave and promise that his people would call her people as she walked away, but he mostly just stood rooted in one spot in his own personal crisis. 

Ford found him a few moments later. “Dude, you are supposed to be in the gym for foot drills. Why are you standing in the middle of the room?”

“Does is make me selfish to go after what I want?”

“Depend entirely on what you want.”

“A career I love, a publishing deal, maybe a boyfriend?”

Ford yawned and rolled her eyes. “We really need to talk to someone about raising our expectations.”


	16. Chapter 16

Two days. Training was only two days and Nursey felt like his entire body had been squeezed through a laundry wringer. 

But it was good. 

Somehow, despite himself, he managed to survive and play his best hockey amongst a room of people who were also dedicated to playing their best hockey and he didn’t trip over his feet even once. 

As he was packing up, the reporters from various news organizations were lined up and taking comments. Even the Swallow had managed to smuggle a few reporters into Faber—which might be a problem, because if anyone was going to get the scoop on two Samwell players having to sit in the drunk tank, then they were would be the ones. 

A microphone dropped suddenly in front of Nursey.

“Derek Nurse? Number 45 on Samwell’s team?” Asked some guy with a need for way more vitamin D and a receding hairline of blondish brown hair. “Are the Hawkers planning on recruiting from Samwell’s roster? And do you think that the Hawkers organization really could benefit from Samwell given their abysmal record for the past four years?.”

“We made it to the playoffs of the Frozen Four.” Nursey said, hackles up.

“But you didn’t win.” 

Which looked like the guy took as his own answer.

“Also, looking at the recruits, what do you think that you can bring some aggressiveness to the organization?”

“Aggressiveness?”

The guy was just getting warmed up. “Yeah, you are a big guy, kinda flashy. Do you think that would be beneficial to the Hawkers?” 

“As I said before, I am still playing for Samwell for the next two years. I can’t speculate right now.”

“Do you think that your police record would be a problem?”

“Sir, what police record?”

The guy pulled out a beat up piece of paper from his pocket. 

“Yesterday, it says that there were multiple arrests at a local bar from the Samwell’s team.”

“That wasn’t me.”

The reporter looked annoyed. 

“Come on. Big guy like you? You probably like to get a little tipsy.”

“No.”

Mr. Smarmy Guy smiled, cajoling, friendly, and utterly condescending. “So, tell me who did get arrested.”

“Man, I have no idea what you are talking about.” Nursey reiterated with a laugh in his tone, and an easy smile. 

Nursey had played this game before. If he was serious and adamant, then this guy would sniff around forever, trying to dig up something. Best to play it with a smile. 

“So, Poindexter? I also heard that you were getting drinks with William Poindexter last night.” 

“This interview is getting weird?”

“Poindexter has been known to get rather chummy with his teammates, and with Samwell’s reputation, I was wondering if the rumors were true.”

Nursey blinked at the guy and started to walk away. 

“Oh, hey. Hold on. Didn’t mean to offend you, guy.” 

“That’s clearly not true.” Nursey said. 

“Look, I get it, right? Mediocre college player gets seen around with a popular player, it puts you in sights of some of the recruiters and trainers. Suddenly, your name is in their mouths. We all take advantage of our connections. So, is there anything you can share?”

“I’m leaving,” Nursey said, and he couldn’t even muster up a smile.

And that must have been the universal signal for politeness to go out the window because the reporter dropped his gloves. 

“You don’t really think that you are good enough to play post college? That’s a joke? What are your stats? Your goals per game? Number of assists? Do you really think you are ready for the big leagues? No, you just have some famous friends and a photogenic face. I’m sure that some organization would love to take you and put you out front to show how,” and he even included the damn finger quote, “diverse they are.” 

Nursey turned his heels and confronted the guy face to face. He kept his voice low and steady and he kept his hands in his pockets, duffle bag thrown over on his shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you what, thank you. I’ve been playing amazing NCAA hockey and I will continue to do so into the near future. My stats are notable and no matter what, I held my own here at training. The rest is none of your business.”

The reporter put his hands up and started to back off with one more hurl thrown in.

“Then why are you palling around with William Poindexter? He’s notorious for not being a team player, even his former captain couldn’t pull any good words for him—but here you are.” 

“He’s a stand up great guy. He’s hard working and most definitely a team player. I’m proud to be considered one of his friends. I got his back. He has mine. We’re done here.”

He walked towards the exit, and heard his name being called from behind him, but he couldn’t stop. 

It felt raw to have someone give voice to your inner doubts like that. To have someone claw at your insecurities. And for a minute, as he retreated, Nursey wondered once again how high he could fly before he burned up in the sun. How far could he go within reason. 

Because at the end of the day, he didn’t want to be a burden. He didn’t want to rely on his mother’s reputation or wealth, he wanted to find time to write and carve a space in the world for black kids to see themselves outside of the confines that the world constantly kept trying to chain them in. And he wanted to be happy. 

Just when he tried to hold all three ideas in his head, someone always seemed to come over to try and knock him down and remind him that he didn’t ever belong.

He’s too rich to be black, too black to play hockey, and too athletic to want anything outside of a sports scholarship or contract. Everyday was reminder that he didn’t fit a mold. 

A little voice that he tried to ignore whispered once again, ‘Just be happy with what you got.’ And it only promised that it would only hurt a little to settle.

He was halfway out the door when a hand tapped his shoulder on his way, and he spun around to say he needed a moment, when he saw Dex’s face, open and eyes wide. 

“Do you wanna to talk about it?” 

“No.”

And because, Nursey noted, Dex paid attention to shit, “Do you need to talk about it?”

Nursey smiled. “It can wait.”

The usually faces filed out around them while they stood in the doorway, and partially blocked the exits. 

When Ford walked past, still yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she pushed at Nursey, “Oh my god, guys, go to the Haus and talk. Jeez.”

Dex chuckled and started following behind the trail of tadpoles.


	17. Chapter 17

If Nursey ever doubted it, he was now 100% sure. Jack Zimmermann had moved into the Haus with a brand new oven that Bitty was currently crying over.

“It’s beautiful. You are so thoughtful, I can’t believe that you would ever do this. But I can’t accept an entire oven, Jack! It’s too much!” Bitty said through hiccups and snot and tears as he gently cleaned it with a microfiber cloth while halfway tucked under Jack’s arm. 

It was a relief to see that Jack wasn’t turned off by the waterworks at all. He stood their soaking up Bitty’s moisture and the praise like a sponge. 

“Consider it a donation to SMH. You all really had to put up with a lot to have the training on campus. Plus, this will benefit the team for years. I know how much you bake. Some of the Falconers even chipped in a few bucks for the promise of your famous pie.”

Bitty squeaked and threw himself backwards. “I will make so many pies, just you wait. It’s going to be spectacular.”

Jack beamed and accepted another hug while Dex peeked into the kitchen to get a gander at the new appliance. 

“They could of at least taken the old oven. Now, I need to disconnect it.”

Nursey beamed. “I had no idea you were moonlighting as a appliance repair man.”

“Just call me the Maytag Man.”

Bitty called over, “This oven is so much fancier than a Maytag, oh my god, so many pies.” And then he hugged Jack again.

While most of the Haus sat to congratulate Bitty, Nursey walked into the kitchen with Dex who circled the oven like it wasn’t top of the line and brand new.

He started to grumble to himself, and Nursey just watched for a bit before speaking up again. 

“So when do you think Bitty can get the first pie in?”

“Before he can make, chill, and roll the pie crust,” he said. “Help me pull this away from the wall.”

They worked wordlessly as Dex made enough space to get to the connectors to the house. 

“How do you even know where to start with this?”

“This,” Dex said, “is what I would have been doing if I hadn’t gotten drafted. I would have worked for my uncle and probably taken over his repair business in Maine.”

“No college in your plans?” 

Dex wipes his hands on his jeans. 

“Not really? Maybe I would have tried to take a few classes here and there.”

“You are a man of many talents.”

Dex sat back on his heels for a second, before standing up motioning with his head for Nursey to go outside to the porch. 

July at the Haus was overly hot and stuffy. Box fans blew in practically every window, muffling the sound of voices milling about. 

Dex threw his weight against one of the porch pillars and it groaned which startled Dex into checking the integrity by shaking it a bit in its place.

“What the hell is this place made out of?”

Nursey gently braced his weight on the other side. “My guess is spit and tissue paper.”

Dex mirrored the movement, gently. “I know that you are joking, But there is more than a kernel of truth though.”

They sat standing like that for a moment.

“Do you know why I like you so damn much, Nurse?” He asked, face relaxed and open, resigned to whatever Nursey would say in response. 

Nursey shook his head and Dex starred off towards the street, hands in his pocket. 

“When we first met, I thought that you were the handsomest guy I’d ever met.”

“Sucker for a nice face, huh?” Nursey interrupted.

“Clearly. I tried really hard to ignore it, but I kept running into you, in those ridiculous outfits and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, but that was only the surface.”

He looked down at his beat up gym shoes before looking Nursey in the eye for a moment, before his gaze skittered down his face and rested on his lips. 

“This is going to sound so cheesy.” 

But what Dex didn’t know was that Derek apparently loved cheese and was eating this up with a fork. 

“But you have so many layers.”

Nursey snorted. “Like an onion?” 

“That doesn’t sound romantic.”

“You are right, like a milk chocolate truffle?”

“You joke when you are uncomfortable.”

And Nursey grinned, also staring straight ahead, not ready to make this more intimate with eye contact. 

“Just a little. Go on, I want to hear the rest.”

Dex’s ears were burning red, but he dug deep and kept talking. 

“At first, I only liked you because I was so attracted to you, it just hurt to look at you. And then you were funny and thoughtful. Like, when I worked up the nerve to tell you how I felt, you saved me a cinnamon roll and I thought, ‘this is a sign.’ And then you laid me out flat.”

Nursey cringed as Dex continued. “And I’m not gonna lie, that burned. But wow, I had it coming.”

“You really did.”

“Fair. But then, I started noticing other little things.”

And Nursey wanted to hear every item on that list.

“I like how I like you no matter what you wear. Even now, in musty work out clothes and running shoes. It’s the same.”

Nursey looked down at himself. Okay, maybe if he had known he was going to get a take two at this, he would have prepared himself. 

“I like how you bump into people and stuff just because your mind is dreaming elsewhere.”

“I’m not that clumsy.”

“Yes you are,” Dex recounted. “Day one, I watched you knock a kid over with your hockey bag.”

“That did happen.”

“I want to know where you go in your head like that. And I like how you are there for your friends, all the time. 3:00 a.m. bail? You are on your way.”

“Like you didn’t do the exact same.”

Dex took a quiet moment before continuing. 

“I like how you look at your friends when you think no one is looking at you. And I wanted that so bad. Just to have you look at me like you care.” Dex paused for a second, like the next part hurt to confess. “I saw the pictures of you reading my letter, on Ford’s Etsy page. It gave me a little hope because I could see that you didn’t hate the letter.

“I like how you make me re-evaluate what it means to be to be brave.”

Nursey finally lifted his eyes and stared at Dex. 

“So brave that I’m going to try this again. When you told that asshole reporter that we were friends, I was relieved that at least we could salvage that. I want to be your friend.”

And it was Nursey’s turn to be brave. He reached over and grabbed Dex’s hand. 

“So is that dating slash boyfriend option off the table too?”

Dex squeezed his hand back. “I never took it off the table.”

“Good.”

“Good!” 

“Glad we understand each other,” Nursey said, before leaving a small peck on Dex’s cheek. 

Dex grinned at his feet, his face, red and happy. 

“So what now?”

Nursey pulled him by the hand towards the Haus doors. 

“Well, I’m going to change since you pointed out that I’m disgusting right now and then we are going to grab Chowder and get dinner and later, I’m going to kiss you under a canopy of trees, next to the pond and it’s going to be romantic as shit. I’m going to write sonnets from the inspiration of it all.”

Dex paused and pulled his hand back with Nursey in tow and kissed him gently on the front porch and it was more than he had expected. It was tentative and shy but certain and it warmed Nursey all the way to the soles of his feet.

There was a note of regret and sorrow from time wasted, but there was the buoyancy of figuring it out.

“What if one day I play for the Falconers? Would that violate your no dating teammates rule?”

“We got two years to figure it out. We could be married by then. That’s a whole new precedent.”

“Whoa, chill!” 

Dex pulled Nursey back in, “Yeah, that is never is going to happen.”

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story, when I started writing for the OMGCP Big Bang, I had a completely different story I was going to write and despite my best efforts, I couldn't write it. It hadn't marinated enough and I hated every word. I was getting ready give us when this story idea came back to me and wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> With all due respect to Jane Austen - this was fun to write. 
> 
> A modern P&P AU with references to the movie - Johnson would approve this fic.


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